Dusk
by Jedi Sapphire
Summary: It may be concealed for centuries, but eventually truth must out - no matter how much damage it does along the way.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This is the last major story in Míron-arc. There may be the odd one-shot, but I don't foresee anymore multi-chap stories. (But it's _definitely _not the last Mirkwood story. There are plenty more of those coming.) I'm going to try my damnedest to post an update at least once in two weeks. I hope I'll manage it.

You'll need to have read my previous LotR stories to understand this, at the very least Hours of Darkness, Tangled Webs, Doubt and Betrayal.

I know I owe a load of review replies, and I'll try to get to them over the next few days. I thought you'd all almost certainly want the next story first.

**Dusk**

* * *

**Part I**

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Court of the Elven-King**_

"Come to order!"

Even through the heavy brocade curtain, Arbellason's voice cutting through the clamour is audible. Saeldur hears other sounds as well, voices and footsteps, but he does not – he _cannot _– raise his eyes from the floor of the antechamber where he sits waiting.

He fears what he will see if he does, though nothing can be worse than what he has seen already. His mother's horror, his father's fury, the hurt in Legolas' eyes… At least Legolas is still speaking to him. His other friends have stopped acknowledging his existence at all.

He cannot blame any of them for how they have reacted. This is not like the last time, when he could blame Míron's plotting and Melda's treachery. This time it is entirely Saeldur's doing.

Inches away from him sits Arahael. They have not exchanged a word in the hour they have been waiting. Arahael feels as though Saeldur has betrayed him. Saeldur would laugh at the irony if it were not so tragic.

The curtain is drawn aside.

Ellaurë stands in the doorway. Her grey eyes are colder than a winter sky.

Saeldur shivers. Ellaurë is normally one of the friendliest of the King's commanders. On the rare occasions when Saeldur had to take Legolas' place in War Council, Ellaurë always managed to make the situation seem less dire.

If she cannot bring herself even to smile at them…

Saeldur gets to his feet. Arahael is close on his heels as he follows her from the room. Saeldur wants to flinch at the other Elf's proximity, but he cannot feel anything.

In court, Legolas sits at his father's right hand. Ithilien or not, he is and always will be Prince of Eryn Lasgalen. He looks as grave as any Elf-lord of legend, far more serious than he had the previous night, when he had taken Saeldur through all the questions that were likely to be asked of him, cross-examining him until he did not falter no matter what was put to him.

Saeldur wishes he could believe it was out of friendship that Legolas did that, but he knows Legolas was simply carrying out what he regarded as his duty as Saeldur's commanding officer. Once Saeldur might have relied on Legolas' friendship, but now… It is too much to hope. His own actions have seen to that.

Bercalion gave Arahael such assistance, despite the fact that Bercalion has no personal wrongs to resent.

Saeldur's guilt claws at his insides. Legolas has his archers' complete loyalty because he gives them the same thing. Saeldur deserves no forgiveness for what he has done; he certainly deserves no faith.

He does not look towards his other friends – are they even still his friends? Is anyone in all of Middle-earth his friend now, he who has so terribly betrayed the beloved warrior-prince of the woodland realm?

The sons of Elrond, sitting close by Legolas as befits, have certainly shown no inclination to be friendly.

"Saeldur Belegurion."

Saeldur raises his eyes to Arbellason's face. There is anger there. Arbellason, childless and unwed, loves his friend's son with a fierceness that is rarely displayed. So soon on the heels of the incident with Melda, Saeldur will have no quarter from him.

"You stand before us accused of high treason. Lady Ellaurë will read the charges."

Ellaurë's voice is clear and carrying. Saeldur bows his head. He cannot look at Legolas while the words are being spoken. Conspiracy. Attempted murder. Sedition. High treason.

Dreadful as they are, he knows Legolas would willingly have forgiven him for all of them, even treason, since the King was never in danger.

"I have done none of these things," Saeldur says, when Ellaurë has finished. As many times as he rehearsed those words last night, they still sound hollow. He _is_ guilty, horribly guilty. And suddenly everything he had planned to say flies out of his mind. The words come unbidden. He is not looking at the ground anymore, either. He is looking at Legolas, _speaking _to Legolas, because he no longer cares what Thranduil does to him. Legolas _must _know the truth of what he says.

"The crime of which I am guilty," Saeldur says, "and which I regret far more than I can describe to you, is that I failed to trust in the good judgement of my commanding officer and in the goodwill of my friend. But this I swear: never, not once in my life, have I intended harm to Legolas."

Does anyone believe him?

Does _Legolas _believe him?

Saeldur has no answer.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Court of the Elven-King**_

"Our first witness," says Arbellason, speaking in Westron out of deference to her, "is Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien, Shieldmaiden of Rohan and slayer of the Lord of the Nazgul. As you all know, Lady Éowyn has been a friend to our kin in Ithilien."

Poor Éowyn. She suffered the attentions of the one they called Gríma Wormtongue and thought she knew the machinations of court. She has learnt now just how dark the mind of an Elf can be, brooding for centuries over its wrongs… Saeldur would be sorry if he had energy to spare from worrying about the fact that Legolas has not once looked directly at him since he entered the room.

Arbellason glances at Ellaurë, who steps forward.

Of course, Saeldur thinks silently. Arbellason is close to Legolas, as is Thorontur. Ellaurë is fond of him as well, but she is at least capable of questioning Éowyn without biasing her answers.

Éowyn is led out. Her cheeks are flushed, but she holds her head high as Istuion guides her to a chair.

* * *

_**Ithilien, near the Elven Settlement**_

Éowyn let out a soft sigh of contentment as the horse, emerging from the forest, found its stride. The tall black destrier was not the usual mount for a noblewoman in Gondor, but a daughter of Rohan could manage him easily. The Mearas that had been her brother's wedding gift to her was in the paddock, enjoying the attentions of the Elven groom, so Éowyn had taken Faramir's horse for this ride.

Faramir, after all, was unlikely to return for another week at least.

Her sigh turned into a whoop as the destrier broke into a gallop. The wind whipped her hair from its demure braids and made it stream out behind her in a golden banner.

Éowyn had never felt so free. Everywhere she looked, there were signs of spring. The ground was carpeted with green, the air was thick with the scent of clover, and the trees she was leaving behind her seemed almost to be dancing. Perhaps it was the Elven presence that made this forest so alive.

Whatever it was, she revelled in it.

She had been out for some time – perhaps half an hour – and the destrier had slowed to a leisurely trot, when she saw a rider approaching. She reined in and watched him with frank curiosity. She knew nobody was expected, and, as the rider neared, she could tell from his slender form that he was an Elf. His horse was a pale, pearly grey, tall and wiry, and he rode without a saddle or any tack.

His face was unfamiliar. By know she knew most of Legolas' companions in Ithilien, so he must have been a messenger – from Imladris, as she had now learnt to call Rivendell, or, far more likely, from Eryn Lasgalen. She knew couriers went back and forth between Ithilien and Eryn Lasgalen every two or three days.

"_Mae govannen_," she said, when the Elf was within earshot. She spoke Westron with the Elves of Ithilien, who were all more or less fluent, but she had been coaxing lessons in Sindarin from Aeroniel and she was happy to have a chance to practice with a stranger. "_Im Éowyn. Im –_"

The Elf cut her off with an impatient wave of his hands. He was near enough now that she was quite certain she did not know him, though there was something oddly familiar about his flashing dark eyes.

"The Elven settlement," he said, "where is it? Do you know?"

The Westron came slowly, obviously as unfamiliar to him as Sindarin was to Éowyn. His voice was rougher than any Éowyn had ever heard from an Elf. When Éowyn turned to point out the way, he cut her off again.

"Who are you? You said your name was Éowyn."

Éowyn floundered. Many people, and nearly all the Elves remaining in Middle-earth, knew her name. She had not had to explain herself since –

She shut the memory of the Pelennor Fields from her mind.

"I am visiting my friends among the Elves," she said. Somehow, she did not want to explain Faramir and his position to this strange Elf. "May I help you?"

"Will you take a message for me?" Without waiting for an answer, he thrust a letter into her hands. "Give this to Rochendilwen. I do not have time to tarry."

He turned his horse and galloped off, leaving Éowyn staring after him.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Court of the Elven-King**_

Éowyn pauses and looks around, hesitating, cheeks flushed, as though she thinks she will be blamed for not having recognized the danger sooner, for not having ridden all-out back to Ithilien and warned the Elves, for not having gone after Legolas herself –

"You had no idea who he was?" Ellaurë prompts.

"No, none at all. He looked familiar but I could not place him. I thought perhaps I had seen him, in passing, visiting his kin in Ithilien."

"You need not blame yourself," Ellaurë says. "You had no way of knowing. What did you do then?"

"I returned… it was time to go back in any case. But I did not hurry. I know it sounds odd, when the rider was in such haste, but… I cannot explain it. I still felt there was no need for haste. All the same, the horse was swift, and I made good time."

* * *

_**Ithilien, the Elven Settlement**_

"I have something for you," Éowyn said, holding up the letter.

Rochendilwen stared at it, uncomprehending. "For me? But the courier is not due today."

"It was somebody else… an Elf I have never met. Although…" Éowyn studied Rochendilwen thoughtfully. "Now that I think about it, he looked a little like you. Do you have any kin in Eryn Lasgalen?"

Rochendilwen stiffened, snatching the letter from Éowyn with unwonted violence. Éowyn looked doubtfully at Aeroniel.

"Did I… is something wrong?"

"Are you sure it was a male Elf?" Aeroniel asked.

Éowyn considered. It was true that female Elves could be as tall and broad-shouldered as the males, and also true that male Elves could be beautiful as no mortal man was, but all the same…

"Yes, I am. Why?" She glanced at Rochendilwen. "I know you have no brothers or sisters, but perhaps a cousin?"

"I have no cousins."

Aeroniel pursed her lips, though her eyes betrayed an anxiety Éowyn did not understand. "Rochendilwen, we must know. If it _is _him –"

"My brother," snarled Rochendilwen, "is dead."

Éowyn flushed, understanding the pain of that. "I… I am so sorry. Forgive me, I had no idea."

"He is not dead," interrupted Aeroniel, glaring at Rochendilwen.

"He is dead to me!"

"This is not helping," Aeroniel said. "You are wasting time, and you are frightening Lady Éowyn."

Rochendilwen started at that. "I… Yes, of course. Forgive me, Éowyn, I… I was not expecting to hear…" She looked down at the letter. "I suppose I should… What did he look like? The Elf who gave you this?"

"A… a little like you. Dark hair and dark eyes."

Rochendilwen glanced at Aeroniel. "It might have been him. Elbereth. It is… I… his handwriting…"

"Read the letter," Aeroniel urged.

"I am going to burn the letter. He can have nothing to say that I want to hear."

"Rochendilwen." Aeroniel caught her arm. "Be sensible. We should know what he says, however abhorrent."

"That can wait." Rochendilwen's voice was rising. "We have to warn Legolas. Where _is_ Legolas? He went riding this morning! And alone! Elbereth Gilthoniel! This _could not_ be worse… We have to –"

"Rochendilwen! Panicking will not help!" Aeroniel tightened her grip so her friend could not pull away, and then glanced at the trees. "See if you can get word to Legolas to return at once. Send a bird – anything."

"But what is it?" Éowyn asked desperately. "What have I done? Should I not have taken the letter?"

"Did the Elf say anything else?"

"He said he could not tarry –"

"He could not risk one of us seeing him. We would have shot him on sight."

"What happened? What has he done?"

"Bregolien," Rochendilwen said in a hoarse whisper that barely covered the tremor in her voice. "His name is Bregolien. He was born my brother. He killed our mother."

"_No_," Éowyn gasped. That would be horrifying enough in a human, but in an Elf, to whom Kinslaying was the most abominable of crimes…

Rochendilwen nodded. "He did, but that… That was not all. He hates the King and he has done everything in his power to drive him to grief enough to make him leave Middle-earth before his time. He… he was the one who murdered the Queen. Before Legolas' eyes. He forced him to watch. He tortured Legolas almost to the point of death – it was only by the grace of Elbereth and the skill of Master Elrond that he survived. If… If it truly was Bregolien, and Legolas is alone…"

"Read the letter," insisted Aeroniel.

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **So this is a little later than I intended… but not _too _bad.

Enjoy the story!

**Part II**

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Court of the Elven-King**_

"Thank you, Lady Éowyn. Rochendilwen!"

Istuion guides Éowyn back to her seat. Rochendilwen comes forward when her name is called, padding across the stone floor with the soundless tread of the warrior – or of a predator. Saeldur thinks she could pass for either.

"Tell us," Istuion says, "_calmly_, if you can, what happened when Lady Éowyn gave you the letter."

"I saw at once it was from…" she hesitates over the word, eyes darkening. She casts a venomous glance in Saeldur's direction. For a moment he thinks she is about to lose her temper. It would be a relief. But, with a visible effort, she controls herself, and finally gets out, "_Bregolien_. After all this time, I still know his hand. I read it, quickly – there was nothing important, he told me none of his plans, but he said… Saeldur had… would… he said Saeldur knew what he was doing, and approved. I could not believe it. But… I had to know the truth."

* * *

_**Ithilien, the Elven Settlement**_

Rochendilwen raced towards the _talan_ Legolas and Saeldur shared, Aeroniel at her heels, Éowyn not far behind. She leapt from branch to branch with speed born of her urgency – she had to know, she had to _know_…

At the top, she paused long enough to drop the rope ladder for Éowyn, and went in.

There were no locks on doors in Ithilien. There was no need. Fond as the young Elves were of jokes, they would not dream of invading one another's privacy.

Rochendilwen barely spared a thought for privacy as she strode through the sitting room and opened the door to Saeldur's bedroom. She made straight for the pile of correspondence on the writing-table. She was about to rifle through the letters when she noticed one letter, crushed and tucked almost out of sight under a book.

She pulled it out. It was long: two sheets of parchment, closely written on both sides.

She turned over the second sheet to see who had sent it, and saw Arahael's name.

Aeroniel and Éowyn were entering now, Aeroniel saying something about asking Saeldur what he knew before they jumped to conclusions, but Rochendilwen paid them no heed. It was no secret that Saeldur corresponded with Arahael. Legolas, despite Rochendilwen's advice, had always declined to interfere.

But something told her that this letter was her answer.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Court of the Elven-King**_

"I knew at once Saeldur had read it," Rochendilwen says. "The date on the letter meant it must have come with the last courier from Eryn Lasgalen. It was that very evening that Saeldur…" She pauses, with a quick glance in the direction of Celephindeth.

"Speak freely," Celephindeth says. "Whatever it is, I have the strength to hear it." She adds, voice lower, "It cannot be worse than what I have heard already."

Rochendilwen bows her head. "Forgive me, my lady. It grieves me to add to your distress. Arahael claimed that he had information that Candnaur… that… at the battle when Candnaur died, Legolas had not made a clean shot and Candnaur was taken alive to Dol Guldur."

Despite her earlier words, Celelphindeth pales, clutching the table for support.

"I do not believe it, my lady," Rochendilwen says quickly.

"May I speak?" Aeroniel asks. At Istuion's nod, she says, "I know it is not true, Lady Celephindeth. I was there. Legolas and Saeldur did not look to see the arrow land, but I did. It was clean, and merciful. There is no doubt that Candnaur was dead when we left."

"Then Arahael was lying," Istuion says, ignoring Arahael's furious expression.

"I cannot say if Arahael believed what he said. The Enemy in Dol Guldur was called the Necromancer, and not without cause. But the halls of Mandos were always outside his power. What he wrought with Candnaur's body I cannot say, but that his _fëa_ was safe from harm I know."

"I agree," Celephindeth says, in a low voice she is fighting to steady. "I felt his _fëa_ leave Middle-earth. If he had been here, even twisted and tormented, if his spirit had lingered in Middle-earth, I would have known."

Istuion nods his acknowledgement and gestures for Rochendilwen to go on with her story.

* * *

_**Ithilien, the Elven Settlement**_

Rochendilwen felt anger bubbling up as she reads the first page. This, _this_ was exactly why she thought Saeldur and Arahael should not be allowed to speak to each other. Saeldur's guilt over Candnaur's death, guilt that so easily exploded into something dark and dangerous, was something Arahael knew how to exploit.

If Legolas came out of this alive… if _Saeldur_ came out of this alive, because Rochendilwen could not answer for her reaction when she saw him next… she would give Legolas this letter and insist that Saeldur end all contact with Arahael. She knew Aeroniel and Colfind would support her –

Then she started to read the next page, and changed her mind. Saeldur had no place among them.

"What?" Aeroniel asked in concern.

Rochendilwen read the second half of the letter aloud.

_But you need not worry. I have a plan for vengeance – vengeance for Candnaur, and vengeance also for my father. Perhaps my father did misunderstand Mithrandir's words, but he was doing his best – and he died for it. He died because his life was weighed in the balance against Thranduil's brat and found less worthy._

"Because he was trying to murder Legolas," Aeroniel muttered. Rochendilwen gave her a brief, grim smile before she went on.

_You must wonder, after all, how I know what I do about Candnaur. I have not been near Dol Guldur myself – not even now, for although the Lady Galadriel may have cast it down and the forest grown upon the ruins, I hold it tainted land._

_However, I have spoken to one who has._

_I was able to speak to Bregolien. The King has become… lenient… about allowing him guests. He believes that the great danger is past, and plans soon to send him to the Havens under guard, thence to take ship for the Blessed Realm where the Valar may judge him as they choose._

_Bregolien does not consider this a kindness._

_I care little what he wants, of course, for one of his low birth could not possibly be expected to appreciate the beauty of Aman even if he were taken there. But I know how to make use of him._

_Before Bregolien made his last attempt on Legolas' life, he travelled widely, and even spent time, he says, in Dol Guldur. There he saw Candnaur working among the Enemy's slaves –_

Rochendilwen broke off to say in disbelief, "He is insane. As if believing Arahael is not bad enough, he believes what Arahael heard from Bregolien?"

"Read the rest."

Shaking her head, Rochendilwen went on.

As she read, she heard footsteps and glanced up to see Eredhion and Voronwë enter the room. The Prince's guards must have seen Rochendilwen, Aeroniel and Éowyn rush to the _talan _and come to find out what the matter was.

_Enough of that. I have laid my plans. The guards have grown careless, and it will be an easy matter to set Bregolien free. How I will take him through the stronghold and through the forest I do not know, for someone is bound to recognize him. But there are a few days yet, and I trust I will find a way._

_There is nothing distasteful that you or I must do. Bregolien has spent years brooding on his wrongs – another sign of foolishness, to let him live – and he wants nothing more than to end Legolas' life as unpleasantly as possible._

_Only one thing is required of you. Legolas is too well guarded in Ithilien. There are too many who will protect him, and Bregolien cannot stand against them all. All you must do is to ensure that he leaves the borders of the Elven realm alone. It does not matter why – to visit the human in Minas Tirith, or the Dwarf, or simply to go riding. He will never reach his destination. Bregolien will make certain of that._

_By the time this letter reaches you, he will be in place._

Rochendilwen stopped, her fist closing around the paper. "Where is Saeldur?"

"More importantly," said Aeroniel, "we must send someone after Legolas. Now. It may not be too late."

Eredhion was already halfway out the door. "I will go. Voronwë, stay here until you can speak to Saeldur. If he has any further information that is not in the letter, get it out of him. Use any means necessary. I am certain the King will understand."

He left.

Voronwë took the letter from Rochendilwen. "Do not destroy that. We need it. Evidence to confront Saeldur."

"How could he _do _this?" Rochendilwen said. "And to _Legolas_?"

"That is something only Saeldur can answer."

"We should go," said Aeroniel. "This is not the best place to speak to Saeldur."

Almost on cue, Saeldur entered. He seemed a little surprised at the crowd in the _talan_, but gave no sign of noticing anything else amiss.

"Why are you all here? And why was Eredhion leaving in such a hurry?" When there was no response, he looked around, brows lowering. "This is absurd. If I have an argument with Legolas, it is nobody's concern but his and mine, and I will speak to him _myself_. You can all –" He stopped, seeing the letter in Voronwë's hand. "That is mine!"

"You admit it," Voronwë said with calm satisfaction. He looked around at the rest of them. "You are all here to witness he admits that this letter is his."

"Of course it is mine! While we are speaking of witnesses, I would like very much to know what you are doing here, without invitation, reading my correspondence."

"Legolas –"

"I will speak to Legolas when he returns," Saeldur said, and if Rochendilwen had not just read proof to the contrary, she would say she heard regret in his voice. "I do not need anybody's assistance."

"Legolas," she said deliberately, "is in danger of his life, because of you. Eredhion may not get to him in time, _because of you. _And you dare to ask why we are reading your letters?" She turned to Voronwë. "Why are you not arresting him?"

"I have had no time," protested Voronwë. "He just arrived."

"What is wrong with all of you?" Saeldur demanded. "Let me remind you that, argument or not, I am Legolas' second, that I was, in fact, the first to swear loyalty to him when he took over command of the archers –"

"Enough," Rochendilwen snapped. "Is this not your letter? A letter you received from Arahael?" She pointed at the paper in Voronwë's hands. "This letter that describes _exactly_ how you and Arahael plotted to have him murdered –"

Saeldur scoffed. "Arahael is dramatic."

"I daresay, but Bregolien is no less murderous for that!"

"_Bregolien?_"

Rolling her eyes, Rochendilwen made an impatient gesture for Voronwë to read the letter aloud. If Saeldur wanted to play this game, they would play it.

Saeldur paled as Voronwë read, looking increasingly horrified. Rochendilwen had never supposed he was so good an actor.

"_Your_ letter," she said quietly when it was over. She could not even rage at him anymore; all she could think of was how hurt Legolas would be that Saeldur, _Saeldur_ of all Elves… "Why did it have to be _you_? You are right, you _were_ the first to swear loyalty to Legolas. And now, you are the first to betray him."

"No," Saeldur gasped. "No, I never knew –"

"It is your letter!" Aeroniel snarled, sounding so furious that even Rochendilwen was startled. "_Your_ letter! You admitted it. Do not lie!"

"Yes, it is my letter, but – I never read past the first page, past his information about Candnaur –"

"His lies," Rochendilwen snapped.

Saeldur shrugged, flushing. "Perhaps. I… I found it disturbing. I put the letter aside to finish later – but after what happened last night and this morning, with Legolas, I had not the heart, and –"

Éowyn cleared her throat. The Elves, having forgotten she was present, all glanced at her in some surprise.

"Whatever the truth is," she said apologetically, "perhaps this discussion can wait? We should be helping Eredhion search for Legolas. I can send a message to Faramir. He and his men will help."

"Quite right," said Saeldur. "We can muster the archers –"

"You are going nowhere," said Voronwë flatly. "No, I do not want to hear more about whether you read the letter or not. I have no way of knowing if you are lying, and I will not risk Legolas' life on the possibility that you are. Lady Éowyn, thank you for your offer, but it is best if we do not send Men after Legolas. Bregolien is deranged. Lord Faramir's men, skilled though they are, may alert him to pursuit. They are skilled, but whether they will be able to resist him if he turns on them I cannot say. I will go."

"I am going with you," Saeldur said. "This is absurd. You have no authority to prevent me –"

"I have the King's authority," Voronwë snarled, "to do _anything _I consider necessary to keep Legolas safe. You are staying here, and that is the end of the matter." He turned to Aeroniel and Rochendilwen. "Try to get some useful information from him – who else is involved in this plot, to begin with. I cannot wait. I do not want to let Eredhion get too far ahead."

"I am coming," Rochendilwen said firmly.

"Rochendilwen –"

"I must see this through."

Voronwë glanced at Aeroniel, who inclined her head slightly.

"Very well," he said. "Aeroniel –"

"I will send word to you if Saeldur tells me anything useful," she assured him. "Thought it appears to me that he intends to insist on his innocence."

Voronwë nodded "Send word to Minas Tirith as well. If Bregolien is in Gondor, Elessar and Undómiel should know."

"Faramir said Gimli was in Minas Tirith," Éowyn ventured. "And the sons of Elrond."

Aeroniel grimaced. "I suppose that means the entire contingent will come here clamouring to go to the rescue. There is no hope of settling this quietly."

"There never was," Voronwë said. "But we will hope that we return with Legolas before drastic measures need to be taken."

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **So I'm not getting the chapters up as quickly as I'd like, but at least I'm getting them up, I guess. I hope you don't find the story itself slow going – I do want to make sure I don't hurry over things, since this is the end of the arc. Many thanks to everyone who reads and/or reviews. Enjoy this chapter!

**Part III**

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Court of the Elven-King**_

"Thank you," says Istuion. "That is enough for now. We need not go into what happened after you and Voronwë left the Elven settlement. We will speak about that tomorrow."

Rochendilwen, rising and bowing her head, makes way for Aeroniel.

"Do you have anything to add to what Rochendilwen has told us so far?" asks Ellaurë.

"No, my lady. It was as she described. We found the letter from Arahael in Saeldur's room. If I had not seen it myself, I would never have believed it."

"Very well. What happened after Rochendilwen and Voronwë left the _talan_?"

"I went down and gave orders to close the borders. The others knew something had happened, from the haste with which Eredhion, Voronwë and Rochendilwen left. I told them of the danger so they would be prepared to ride at a moment's notice. Then Colfind and I tried to get more information from Saeldur."

"He would not cooperate?"

"He insisted that he knew nothing of the matter. I… I do not know if it was wishful thinking, but he… he sounded sincere. I wanted badly to believe him. I _would_ have believed him in any other circumstances. He begged us to let him go after Legolas. We could not do that, of course. He grew desperate. He told us… a great deal. He said he knew Arahael had been plotting to kill Legolas, and that Míron had been doing so before he died. He said… when… Melda was banished for poisoning Legolas, it was Míron who had instigated her to do it."

Thorontur's jaw tightens, but he says nothing.

"Go on," says Ellaurë.

* * *

_**Ithilien, the Elven Settlement**_

"How is this a defence?" demanded Colfind. "You knew that Arahael was part of a plot to murder Legolas. You have known of his plans for more years than I care to think about. And you continued to be his friend?"

"I did not know the details of his plans. That was why I stayed his friend!" said Saeldur. "Can you not see it? I did it so he would _tell _me the truth. What better way to get it? I thought I would know when he planned something and I could protect Legolas from it. It _worked_ once before… that was how I knew Legolas was being poisoned. That knowledge saved his life then."

Aeroniel and Colfind exchanged a glance.

They were in one of the cottages they had built for the use of Mannish visitors. They had agreed that, all things considered, it would be easiest to keep Saeldur under guard there. He had given up his weapons without a fuss, although he had hesitated for a moment over his bow. It was not the same bow he had held up to Legolas as a token of his loyalty – bows did not last that long – but Aeroniel had found tears pricking at her eyes just the same.

Colfind shook his head. "If you had told the King – told Legolas – told _anybody_ what you knew, we would all have been on our guard and he might not have been poisoned at all!"

"Besides," Aeroniel said coldly, "how do we know you are telling the truth about it? Yes, yes, I know, you forbade the healers Legolas' room, you wrote to the King – but how do we know you did not simply fear that your part in it would become known, since they had not succeeded in killing Legolas before you returned? It was beautifully arranged, after all. You were on the battlefield, far from all suspicion."

"I would never harm Legolas."

"So you say. Yet the facts contradict you. Last night you started an argument with Legolas, for no reason that I can fathom. You continued it this morning, infuriating Legolas enough that he decided he wanted time to himself and went riding alone, which was exactly what Arahael asked. That is a remarkable coincidence, if you truly did not read his letter."

"What would you have me say?" Saeldur said wearily. "I was wrong, and I will never forgive myself if harm comes to Legolas. But do you really think it so important to punish me that you are willing to risk Legolas' life for it? He may need help. We should go after him."

Aeroniel shrugged. "Forgive me if I have little sympathy for you. Eredhion, Voronwë and Rochendilwen have gone after him. As Voronwë said, even if Legolas does need help, they will be enough. And Bregolien may not find it as easy as he thinks to kill Legolas. He is no longer a child, and he has faced greater foes and harder battles than one crazed Elf."

"Legolas will think I did not care enough to go," Saeldur mumbled.

Colfind exploded. "Legolas will think you did not care? _This_ is what you think of at a time like this, when Legolas might be dead at this _moment_, that he will think you did not care? Would he be wrong to think it? Even if you are telling the truth about everything, which I very much doubt, you say that you maintained a correspondence with Arahael to find out his plans and protect Legolas. Why, then, would you neglect to read half of his letter?"

"It was what he said about Candnaur. I put it aside after I read that. It disturbed me too much –"

"What if we let you go after Legolas and Bregolien says it again? What if he says worse? You blame Legolas for Candnaur's death even knowing he did the only thing he could, in the circumstances, the thing _you _asked him to do. All it takes to manipulate you is a mention of his name and a story that _even _one as stupid as you ought to have realized was false. Arahael knows how to make you do anything. And, while we are discussing this, why was Candnaur in the midst of the battle at all? He did not come chasing after Legolas. He was there for _you_, because you would not listen to any of us and insisted on running into battle unprepared, because you were unwilling to go back with Candnaur when he came."

"I know that!" Saeldur burst out. "Do you think I could fail to know it? I bear far more responsibility than Legolas does for Candnaur's death. But… sometimes that is a truth I cannot face."

"And so it is convenient to blame Legolas," Aeroniel spat contemptuously.

Saeldur's voice was almost pleading when he said, "Legolas understands."

"Legolas understands too much, and when it would be better for everyone if he showed a little less sympathy. But none of that matters now. Your guilt or innocence is not for us to decide. Our only concern is to retrieve Legolas. We are doing everything we can towards that. Until we know he is safe, you stay here."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Court of the Elven-King**_

"Thank you," Ellaurë says. "You may sit."

Aeroniel returns to her place. Istuion slips to one side and returns with a document that Saeldur recognizes as a letter – _the _letter, the _accursed _letter – and gives it to her.

"I have read this," Ellaurë tells the court. She handles the letter with her fingertips, as though afraid touching it will soil her hands. "The contents are just as have been described to us. I will not read it aloud again. Anyone who wishes to examine it personally may come to my study this evening. There is no need to waste the time of the court."

Or, are her unspoken words as her gaze flits to Celephindeth, to cause needless distress to anybody. Celephindeth is not looking at her, though; her eyes are on Legolas – and Legolas is studying a sheet of paper on the table before him with a carefully blank face.

If Ellaurë has read the letter, there is little doubt Legolas has as well.

"Saeldur!" Ellaurë says sharply, making him start. "Is this the letter you received from Arahael?"

Istuion makes to take it from her and bring it to Saeldur, but Saeldur shakes his head. Considering that he failed to read it in its entirety when it mattered, he has no desire to read it now.

"I have no doubt it is the letter, my lady," he says quietly.

"And, Arahael, is this –"

"Yes, I wrote it," interrupts Arahael. "What of it?"

"It represents, at the least, a grave error of judgement. I would not be so pleased with myself, were I in your place." She gives the letter back to Istuion. "Very well, then, I will speak to you first, Arahael, since you are so eager to answer. Have you any explanation to give that will at all lessen the severity of your crime?"

"I am guilty of no crime."

"You deny your part in it, then?"

"I deny nothing. I simply do not consider it a crime."

There are soft hisses from the watching Elves, but Ellaurë shows no emotion.

"Regardless of what you would call it, plotting the death of another Elf is attempted murder," she responds, "even if you did not strike the blow yourself." She sounds too calm. "When your intended victim is the son of the King, and the means you choose is to release from captivity an Elf who is responsible not only for assassinating the Queen but for the worst type of Kinslaying, the murder of his own mother, I cannot call it by any name other than treason."

"You talk of the death of the Queen?" Arahael snaps. "What of the death of my father? Is there never to be justice for him? To this day nobody has spoken to me openly of the circumstances of his death."

"You know as much as all of us do, who were not present," Ellaurë says. Her eyes are flashing, but her voice is as even as before. "Míron was killed while attempting to murder Legolas – and attempting to murder him, I might add, with no provocation."

"He was trying to do what was best for the realm!"

"Murder is never best for the realm."

"I will know the truth. I deserve that much. You want to know what I have done to harm Legolas? I will tell you. I did free Bregolien. I told him where to find Legolas, and I told Saeldur to arrange for Legolas to be alone. What else should I have done? My father's blood demands vengeance, and if Legolas did not strike the killing blow, nobody can deny that he died so Legolas could live. If you tell me I am wrong to blame Legolas, then tell me also whom I should blame."

"Arahael," Legolas says, speaking for the first time. His voice is soft, but in the total silence that has fallen it carries so much that Saeldur would not be surprised if he is audible in Mithlond. Saeldur's throat is suddenly dry. "You are free to blame me for your father's death if you choose." Of course. Saeldur's face burns. Legolas will never break a promise, no matter what has happened. "I will not deny that I bear a degree of responsibility; it is true that he was killed to save my life. But as Lady Ellaurë said, if he had not entered the royal quarters to commit murder, he would, in all likelihood, be alive and well today."

"Until I know the truth," Arahael says, "you will not have any further answers from me."

"You must please yourself," Ellaurë says, turning away. "Saeldur, let me ask you the same question. Have you anything to say that will explain this treasonable correspondence?"

"May I address Legolas?"

"You may address the court."

So be it. Legolas is here; he is listening.

"I know you have no reason to believe me… but I will swear any oath you wish that I never intended harm to Legolas. I read only the first page of the letter. And I handled it badly. Candnaur has always been a difficult subject, and… I did quarrel with Legolas over it. I should have known better. But… nothing, _nothing _you do or say now can be a worse punishment than knowing what… what the consequences were. I am sworn to defend Legolas with my life. I would never knowingly cause him harm."

There is a long moment of silence. Then Ellaurë says, "I think that is enough for today."

Thranduil gets to his feet before anybody can leave.

"Tomorrow will be a closed court," he announces.

A closed court. That means privacy for Legolas. Privacy to describe exactly what happened when he went riding.

Saeldur shudders.

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Look at that, an update in reasonable time. I can't promise I'll manage to post the next update this quickly as well – I almost certainly won't – but I will try to have it up as soon as I can.

One geographical note – for the purposes of this story, I'm placing the main Elven settlement in the northern part of Ithilien, though of course they would visit the entire forest for their restoration work.

Many thanks to everyone who reviewed – you make me want to write faster. ;)

* * *

**Part IV**

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Court of the Elven-King**_

Elladan, the elder of the sons of Elrond, comes forward to speak for himself and Elrohir, who keeps his seat beside Legolas. The closed court is quieter, but no less formal. Legolas, in his pale grey tunic, leafing through the documents Istuion has placed before him, looks oddly remote.

Saeldur cannot imagine how he is going to get through the day. He still does not know the details of what happened – Legolas, understandably, declined to discuss it with him, and he has had no desire to ask Arahael. But _this_ is not how he wants to find out.

Legolas seems calm – or, if is tense, it is the understandable tension of a difficult day in court. He is not vibrating with the anguished energy of the night that now seems an Age in the past, when he poured out to Saeldur everything he could remember of how the Queen died. Saeldur hopes that is a sign that what happened this time was not… _as _terrible.

He would give _anything_ to have this over. Whatever Thranduil does to him – exile seems likely – it cannot be worse than this waiting.

He almost weeps with relief when Ellaurë says, "Lord Elladan, you and Lord Elrohir have our thanks for your presence."

"No thanks are needed, my lady," Elladan replies. "It is no more than our duty to give the Elven-king what information we can. Even if we had had no knowledge of the matter, we would have chosen to be here. Legolas has been our friend for many years."

Ellaurë nods her acknowledgement. "You were already on your way to Ithilien when you noticed something amiss, I am told. Is that correct?"

"We had spent some months in Minas Tirith with our sister. Legolas had come there, of course, several times, during our stay. But we wanted to see Ithilien. The Elves who dwell there have been accused of magic, and indeed to Mortal eyes the change in the forest – a change that is more visible each month – must seem unnatural. It is a joy to walk beneath its trees, and such a joy as I never thought I would have outside Imladris and Lothlórien."

* * *

_**Gondor, the Road from Minas Tirith to Ithilien**_

"The Wood-elves have done well," Elrohir observed, eyes on the green canopy overhead. "To bring new trees to Gondor was a great task in itself, but they have also persuaded many of those I would have considered dead to put forth fresh leaves."

His twin laughed. "I believe the plains of Gondor offend Legolas' eyes. He has managed to line nearly the entire road to Minas Tirith with trees. I am eager to see what he has changed in Ithilien since we were there last."

"To see what has changed?" Elrohir asked. "Or to persuade Legolas to broach a cask of Dorwinion?"

Elladan gave a negligent shrug, declining to respond in favour of guiding his horse through a break in the trees. "Perhaps a nice ride over the open plain?" he asked over his shoulder. "If we head due west, we should rejoin the road before the ford over the Anduin."

Elrohir joined him in a brisk canter that quickly turned into a gallop. They let their horses have free rein, slowing them only as they neared the river. They exchanged a glance, conscious that going on would take them within sight of the Ephel Dúath, Even now, with the One Ring destroyed and Sauron's power brought to nothing, there was something menacing about their dark bulk on the far horizon.

"Only Legolas," murmured Elrohir, as he looked towards the East. Mortals might forget how near Sauron's great stronghold was, but the Elves could sense its presence. "_Only _Legolas could move into a forest at the foot of Minas Morgul and turn it into anything other than a nightmare."

"One certainly forgets its presence among the trees," agreed Elladan. "How far is the ford?"

"I think we have come a little too far north." Elrohir pulled his horse's head around, and paused when something glinted in the grass under its hooves.

"What is it?" asked Elladan, sensing something wrong even before he saw his twin dismount and drop to his knees.

"This." Elrohir held up a golden brooch in the shape of a pair of oak leaves. It was a familiar sigil.

Elladan's brows drew down as dread began to rise in his chest. He had thought, with the Enemy defeated, that the days of danger were past.

"It might not belong to Legolas. There must be many people passing through here now."

"I think it does belong to Legolas." Elrohir turned the brooch around so that his brother could see the Elf-rune for _L_ etched on the back. "And I do not think he dropped it unknowingly."

Elladan stared at it. "It might not mean trouble." They both knew he was trying to convince himself. "Even Legolas must drop things sometimes."

Elrohir, not bothering to dignify the statement with a response, was already scouting the area.

"Horses," he said at last. "At least two. Heading north."

"Legolas knew we were coming. He would not have left unless something… _something _happened."

Elrohir leapt on his horse again. "They are not far ahead. Hurry! We can still catch them."

"Wait!" Elladan cried. "We should take word to Ithilien! We do not know what is happening. We might need reinforcements." Elrohir hesitated. "You go after Legolas," Elladan went on. "I agree we should make haste. There are few dangers now that Legolas could not easily overcome, and very few indeed that he would allow to chase him. I do not want think of what this one might be. Go after him, but be careful. I will go on to Ithilien and follow you as soon as I can."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Court of the Elven-king**_

"And so you parted company," Ellaurë prompts. "Elrohir followed the trail left by the two riders, and you went to Ithilien."

"I forded the Anduin, but I did not have to go far along the path after that. I was still some distance from the border of the Elven settlement when I met Rochendilwen, Eredhion and Voronwë leading a dozen archers. Rochendilwen told me what had happened."

"Was her account the same as what we heard in court yesterday?"

"It was the same. She told me about the letter." For the first time Elladan looks directly at Saeldur. There is anger in his face, and something that Saeldur, under other circumstances, would call pity. "I could not credit it at first. That Saeldur would conspire against Legolas seemed impossible. I could as easily have believed that Elrohir had done it. But Rochendilwen assured me that it was true. I will admit I was terrified." This time Elladan's apologetic glance is directed at Legolas. "Well I know Legolas' capability as a warrior, and I would back him against any foe. But this… this was more than that. Elrohir and I know, better than any others, better even than Legolas himself, what Bregolien has done to him in the past."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Near the Elven Settlement**_

"They cannot have gone far," Elladan said, leading the way at a brisk trot. He did not want to think about Saeldur, or about Legolas' reaction to knowing Saeldur had not only betrayed him, but had betrayed him to his worst nightmare. He could not begin to imagine how to deal with any of that, so he was giving all his attention to the immediate problem, the one he _could _solve. "The tracks are fresh."

"They need not go far for Bregolien to find reinforcements," Rochendilwen said grimly. "There are still Orcs in the Ephel Dúath. We do not interfere with them, and they are usually too frightened to venture out. But… Bregolien could have gone to them first."

"I doubt a few Orcs will be a match for Legolas."

"No, but they might distract him while Bregolien attacks." Rochendilwen's knuckles were white. "And more than that, they might serve to conceal Legolas' tracks."

"I do not understand why Legolas went north," Elladan said. They had reached the point where he and Elrohir had parted, and his twin had scraped an arrow in the dirt to indicate the direction he had taken. "Surely it would have been more sensible to return to the Elven settlement."

"He would not have wanted to lead him back to us," Rochendilwen muttered. "The _fool_."

"That sounds like Legolas," Elladan agreed. "Quickly. We can at least catch up to Elrohir."

They met Elrohir sooner than they expected. He was just out of sight over a hillock, his horse pawing the ground impatiently as he stared at the river.

"They must have forded here," he said, indicating a place where the water ran shallowly over a wide swathe of rocky ground. "The tracks disappear. I have been across the river, but I could not tell which direction they chose. Then I heard you coming, so I waited. You made good time."

Rochendilwen shook her head feverishly. "We must cross and search –"

"Wait." Elladan leaned over to take hold of her reins. "You must calm down first. You can do Legolas no good like this."

"I will calm down later. We have no time to waste –"

"Bregolien is only an Elf." Elrohir heeled his horse around to grip Rochendilwen's shoulder firmly. "Listen to me. He has a grip on your mind – and on Legolas', perhaps – because of the terrible things he has done. But Legolas is no longer a child – nor even the Elf he was before the War of the Ring. He has shot down a Ringwraith – fought on the Pelennor Fields – faced the armies of Sauron at the Black Gate of Moria. Bregolien will not find him an easy foe."

"He was unarmed," said Rochendilwen.

"That is unfortunate, but I still think highly of his chances. Have you no faith in Legolas' ingenuity? He has grown from the child who was forced to watch his mother die."

Rochendilwen forced a smile. "In that case, I only hope there is something left of Bregolien…"

"To face the King's judgement," agreed Elrohir.

Rochendilwen's smile grew fierce. "No. To face mine."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Court of the Elven-King**_

"Before we continue," Istuion says, "I believe you have brought a letter from Elessar of Gondor."

Elladan gestures to Elrohir, who hands two sealed letters to Istuion. "We have a letter from Elessar, and one from Gimli son of Glóin, Lord of the Glittering Caves. They both regret that their duties kept them from coming here to give evidence to the court in person."

"We are grateful to them for sending us their testimony," Istuion says, taking the letters. He studies them for a moment, and then holds them up so that everyone can see the unbroken seals.

Saeldur has no idea what either the Man or the Dwarf would say. He never dreamed that he would be reduced to having Estel and Gimli give evidence against him – and in _this _of all things. More than anything else he wants Legolas to look up and catch his eye with the slight smile that means court must be endured but will be over soon.

Legolas will not look at him.

Meanwhile, Istuion has broken the seal on the first letter.

"I will begin with the letter from the King of Gondor."

He clears his throat and begins to read.

_To Thranduil, Elven-king, my greetings._

_I give you an account of all I know of the plot to kill your son and my friend. Before I describe the events of the past few days, I must make a confession. Once, many years ago, when I was only a boy, I heard Saeldur and Arahael speak of murdering Legolas._

Saeldur bites his lip to suppress a groan as he glances in Legolas' direction. Of _course _Estel will mention this.

Legolas, murmuring something to Elrohir, does not raise his head.

_If I am culpable for not having revealed this before, I can only plead in excuse that I believed Saeldur when he told me that he was acting in Legolas' interests, and to protect him from harm._

_My first indication that I might have been mistaken was when I received a letter from Aeroniel._

* * *

_**Gondor, Some Miles from Minas Tirith**_

Arwen glanced anxiously at the rising sun. Gimli, following her gaze, found himself hoping she was not going to make any cryptic Elven remarks about red dawns and spilt blood.

Aragorn was riding several yards ahead of the group of Rangers, leaving Gimli to follow with a young man from the City Guard. Arwen, who seldom left Minas Tirith except to attend Elven festivals in Ithilien, had flatly refused to remain behind.

"Legolas might be your friend," she had said shortly, when Aragorn had tactfully suggested that she could govern the city in his absence. "_I_ have known him since he was a babe in arms, long before your grandsire was even a thought. I am not staying here while he is in danger."

"You cannot mean to fight Bregolien –"

"_Bregolien_." Arwen had spat the name like a curse. "No, I will not fight him, curse upon Elvenkind as he is. I do not believe _you_ will fight him either. Legolas is not a child – and I know he was not a child the last time," she added, before Aragorn could point that out. "But journeying so long among Men has taught him a great deal about grief and loss. I think you will find that I am right. Unless Bregolien has reinforcements, Legolas is more than equal to the task of handling him."

Now, she shook her head as Aragorn wheeled his horse and rode back to them, answering his unspoken question.

"Something is amiss," she said. "But what it is, I cannot tell."

"I have one comfort," Aragorn said. "Elladan and Elrohir would have reached Ithilien yesterday. They will do what they can. Do the trees say anything?"

"Nothing," said Arwen. "They have realized, I think, that Legolas is in danger, but that is all." She glanced at Baralin, one of the Elves of Ithilien, who had declined Aragorn's offer of a room to rest for a few days in favour of riding back with them at once. "Do you know anything more?"

"Nothing, Lady Undómiel," said the Elf. "Aeroniel bade me make haste, and –"

He stopped short, uttered several words in Sindarin that Gimli had never heard before but that sounded unfit for a lady's company, and dug his heels into his horse's side. Aragorn, with a Westron oath that Gimli _did _understand, shot after him. Arwen, her eyes narrowed, muttered something equally profane, and urged her horse to a quick canter.

Looking ahead, Gimli saw a figure on horseback just visible on the horizon.

"Has someone brought tidings?" he called after Arwen, wishing he could spur his horse on instead of clinging uselessly to the saddle.

Arwen reined in and wheeled to face him. "It is not one of Legolas' friends," she said, her lips compressed. "I do not think the tidings are good."

* * *

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	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **The next one in reasonable time too. The action, such as it is, begins now, but I think it's only fair to warn everyone it isn't a very action-oriented fic.

Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Part V**

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Court of the Elven-King**_

Istuion stops reading abruptly and turns to Elladan. "So it was the King and Queen of Gondor who apprehended Arahael?"

"It was. We saw no sign of him on our way to Ithilien. We may have missed each other… or, in our eagerness to pursue Legolas' tracks, we may have overlooked Arahael's. From what I have heard of where he was apprehended, he stayed well west of the Elven settlement."

"Then you think he did not plan to involve himself… directly… in the attack on Legolas."

"I cannot say. It is possible that he would have joined Bregolien once he had Legolas under control."

Istuion purses his lips and nods, putting the letters on the table before the King. "It is fortunate that Elessar rules in Gondor… Had Arahael not been contained, it may have been far worse. I believe Elessar speaks of the events of the day after Legolas disappeared." Elladan assents. "As does the Lord of the Glittering Caves. In that case, I think it is best that we hear more of what happened on the first day before we proceed… Thank you, Lord Elladan. We will ask you to continue later."

Saeldur feels a sudden chill at what that must mean. Sure enough, at a gesture from Istuion, Legolas rises from his seat and comes to the middle of the room. Eredhion and Voronwë move back to the doorway, the better to watch everyone.

The air of tension is palpable.

Almost hysterically, Saeldur thinks that Legolas looks calmer than any other member of court.

"There is no need to go into details that will harrow you," says Ellaurë, taking over smoothly from Istuion. "Tell us as much as you can of what happened."

"I am quite capable of speaking of it, my lady," Legolas assures her. "Saeldur and I…" And _there _it is, one quick, barely perceptible glance at Saeldur. It is not hostile, but it is not friendly either. "We had had an argument that morning. There is no need to go into the substance. I wanted some time alone and I decided to go riding."

"You took no weapons?"

Legolas gave a rueful laugh. "I had a small dagger, but that was all. Normally it would not have mattered. Ithilien is peaceful now."

"Go on. What happened?"

"Wait," says Thranduil. His eyes are sympathetic, but his voice is unyielding. "Legolas, I am sorry… Since our purpose is to establish whether, and to what degree, Arahael and Saeldur are culpable for what happened, I think we _must _hear the substance of your argument with Saeldur."

Legolas darts a sidelong look at Celephindeth.

"Legolas," she says, her voice steadier than Saeldur would have expected, "I know I have given you reason to believe I will not react rationally to unpleasant news. But the last few days have prepared me for anything. Speak freely."

* * *

_**Ithilien, the Elven Settlement**_

It was not yet dawn when Legolas decided there was no point pretending to sleep any longer. He rolled out of bed, dressed, and padded into the sitting room.

There was light shining under Saeldur's door.

For a moment Legolas considered going in and speaking to him. A moment's thought changed his mind. If Saeldur was still in the mood he had been in the previous night, an argument would be the only result. It was best to give him time to calm down.

He left the _talan_, dropping to the ground in a single, easy leap. Everything looked shadowy in the grey light of approaching day.

Twin thumps told him Rochendilwen and Aeroniel had left their _talan _as well.

"How long have you been watching?" Legolas asked, turning.

"We had no need. We told the tree to warn us when you emerged." Rochendilwen surveyed him. "Is Saeldur still abed?"

"I do not think he slept last night."

"From the looks of it," said Aeroniel, "neither did you." She shrugged. "A night's missed sleep will do little harm. Come. I do not know about either of you, but I could do with breakfast." She led the way to the large cottage nearest the stream that ran by the settlement. "Once again, I bless the day Lalveth chose to come with us."

Legolas laughed and nodded. Lalveth's husband, Baralin, had been a member of the Palace Guard. He had, rather diffidently, requested permission to accompany them south. Immediately after he had obtained it and left Legolas' study, his place had been taken by Lalveth.

She had had none of his uncertainty.

She had pointed out to Legolas that the bare _telain _and campfire meals that he and his companions would consider more than ample for their comfort would be unimaginable within sight of the Men of Gondor, who, she had been told, were as full of ceremony and stateliness as the Noldorin Elves from whom their kings descended. What would Legolas do if Gondorians came to visit? Who would ensure that everybody had clothes suitable for a Mannish court, and see to the laundry and ironing? Was Legolas aware that Men were incapable of climbing trees? They needed ladders and ropes to help them, and, even with these aids, some would be too clumsy to gain the treetops. Men also required more protection from the elements. They must construct cottages at ground level, and provide warm blankets. Had Legolas thought of any of that?

When a rather startled Legolas had confessed that he had not thought of those things, she had offered to come and see to them, if he would permit it. Legolas, amused, had acquiesced.

She had proceeded to charge of the household with such thoroughness that Éowyn and Faramir declared they found the cottages of the Elven settlement as comfortable as the halls of Minas Tirith.

Éowyn was visiting them. Faramir had gone to Dol Amroth, but she had been disinclined to accompany him, and she had gleefully taken the excuse to leave the restrictions of court for a few days. Legolas hoped she would be asleep at this hour. He did not want to answer questions, even well-meant ones.

In the cottage Lalveth had commandeered for the dining hall, following the practice of Eryn Lasgalen, a light meal was available at any hour of the day or night. The Elves, who over centuries had become accustomed to patrol duty at odd hours, were grateful for it.

At this hour, there were few people about. Legolas was grateful. It meant he and Rochendilwen and Aeroniel could settle down in a corner by themselves.

"What _is _upsetting Saeldur?" Rochendilwen asked.

Legolas shook his head at her and turned to Aeroniel. "When Candnaur died –"

"Elbereth Gilthoniel," Rochendilwen muttered. "Not this _again_." When neither Aeroniel nor Legolas responded to that, she went on, "Oh, come, you both know it is absurd. Nobody who has lived through the last centuries in the Woodland Realm has done so without loss. Yet everybody finds a way to do what must be done without being a menace to all around them – except Saeldur."

"Candnaur was his brother. It is natural for him to grieve."

"Nobody denies it. But it is _not _natural for him to quarrel with everybody whenever Candnaur's name is mentioned."

"What were you going to ask?" Aeroniel said to Legolas.

"When he died, was it a clean shot? I… I did not wait to see how it fell."

"I did," said Aeroniel. "In case we needed another. There was no need. It was a perfect shot, Legolas. Candnaur would have been dead in seconds. Is that what is worrying Saeldur?"

Legolas gave an uncomfortable shrug. "I do not know if he thinks –"

Before he could finish the sentence, the door opened again and Saeldur strode into the room. "_Here _you are. I thought you might have come here to avoid me."

Legolas sighed. Apparently Saeldur had no intention of calming down. This would have to be dealt with.

"Perhaps we should speak in private," he suggested, pushing his plate away and getting to his feet.

"The _talan _was private. You wanted to be here. I think will do." Saeldur sat beside Aeroniel, opposite Legolas. "I would not want to offer you the temptation of fleeing a conversation – again."

"Saeldur –"

"I thought my brother was dead because of you." Saeldur was at least keeping his voice low. "That I found a way to forgive, but if he did not even have a clean death – if the finest of the Elven-king's archers missed his shot –"

"Saeldur," Aeroniel interrupted. "I was there. That did not happen –"

"Candnaur did not choose battle, but he still suffered," Saeldur snapped, ignoring Aeroniel. "Suffering _you _could have prevented, Legolas, but that was never your purpose, was it?"

"This is absurd," Legolas snapped, feeling his own temper rise. "Whatever is wrong with you –"

"If he was taken alive, he spent years – _centuries _– in torment in Dol Guldur, before it was cast down –"

"He was not taken alive!"

"You cannot know that! You did not even try to retrieve his body – either because you were frightened of the Orcs –"

"If you mean I did not want to risk lives when I knew Candnaur was dead, then _yes _–"

"Or maybe you knew he was _not _dead and you chose to leave him to his fate. After all, the finest of the Elven-king's archers does not _miss_… Does he? Tell me the truth, Legolas, at least now."

"The truth," Legolas said coldly, "is that you are out of your mind, possibly as a consequence of an overindulgence in Rhûnish wine. Sleep it off, Saeldur."

"I am not drunk."

"Then stop acting like it!" Legolas spat. After a moment, he sighed. "I _am _sorry for Candnaur's loss. If there had been any way to save him –"

"There _was _a way," said Saeldur. "A commander who was not a child terrified of displeasing his father would have kept him safe. Or, if he could not, he would have made it a quick death – a _merciful _death." He lunged across the table and seized Legolas' wrist. "I have seen you in battle often enough. No matter what is happening, your hand does not shake on the bow."

"Saeldur," Legolas said, pulling free, his patience at an end, "_enough_. If this is Arahael again –"

"Tell me you did not intend it," Saeldur said, leaning forward. "Tell me you were not threatened by his presence – oh, I know everyone says there is nobody to rival you. The King's son, our beloved warrior-prince, who could possibly be a better heir to the throne? But they do not know the truth. You have always been afraid of failing your father – or Lord Thorontur –"

"Saeldur," Rochendilwen tried to intervene, but with no more success than Aeroniel had had.

"You never did fail King or Council, I will give you that," Saeldur went on, his voice shaking. "But you failed Candnaur – and you failed me, the day we lost him." He got to his feet. "I hope he at least finds peace in the halls of Námo."

For a moment, Aeroniel and Rochendilwen watched Saeldur walk away.

Then Rochendilwen said apprehensively, "Legolas –"

"I am going riding," Legolas said, rising.

"What – _now_? The sun is not up!"

"It will be daylight soon," Legolas said dismissively. "I know my way."

"Let us come with you," said Aeroniel. "You should not go alone."

Legolas shook his head. "Do not worry. I do not intend to do anything stupid. I only want some air." When she still looked hesitant, he added, "I will not be long. I am only going riding. There is no danger here."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Court of the Elven-King**_

Hearing it repeated in court, Saeldur can barely bring himself to raise his head, not even to look at Legolas. He would have maimed anyone else who had spoken to Legolas like that. He must have been mad.

But however unpleasant it was, Saeldur knows the argument would have been forgiven willingly.

"I am so sorry," he whispers.

Legolas glances at him. "I know you are."

"I assume, then," Ellaurë says, drawing Legolas' attention from Saeldur, "that you had no idea of the contents of Saeldur's letter from Arahael."

"No, my lady. I saw it only when I returned… after everything was over."

"Go on. You went riding. What happened?"

* * *

_**Ithilien, Some Distance from the Elven-Settlement**_

Legolas noticed that there appeared to be new growth in a small clump of trees on the other side of the river. It was shallow enough to ford, so he rode across to look at it more closely.

As he dismounted, he thought he saw a flash of movement in the thicket. Perhaps the birds were finally returning to this part of the forest. He and his companions had been at great pains to persuade the jays and finches and sparrows that the woods were safe now. In the areas the Elves inhabited, the birds _had _returned, but the rest of Ithilien was still barer than he would have liked.

With a command to his horse to wait, he took a few eager steps in the direction of the thicket.

He stopped short when he sensed, not the accustomed welcome, but a sense of cold dread from the trees.

Something was wrong.

A few years of peace had done nothing to blunt his warrior's instincts, but they _had _made him lose the habit of arming himself unnecessarily. He did not have his bow or his knives. He had nothing but a dagger tucked into his belt.

An arrow streaked towards his head. He had plenty of time to duck, which he did. Then he mounted the horse and urged it back across the river.

The arrow had not been an Orc's, but it had not been an Elven arrow, either – at least, not one of the finely crafted, perfectly balanced shaft that he insisted on for his archers. A Man, perhaps? Mannish brigands tended to expect Elves to have valuable possessions to steal.

If there _was _something lurking in the thicket, far better to draw away and observe it before he acted.

He had not long to wait. He had barely gained the other bank when a figure on horseback burst from the trees.

Legolas' blood ran cold.

"Is that how you greet people in this land?" Bregolien called, lips drawn back in a snarl. "Running away from them?"

"How…" Legolas could barely form words. His mind flew to Eryn Lasgalen, to the horrible possibility of a trail of murder. "How did you escape?" His father was well, he would know if it were otherwise, but everyone else…

Bregolien laughed. "No harm came to anybody. They may not even have realized yet that I am gone. If you must worry, Elfling, worry for _yourself_. Here you are, alone, abandoned by your friends… There is nobody to save you. You are mine, and you are going to die."

Despite his words, Bregolien's bow was in its sheath.

Legolas' fingers were numb. The world seemed to have darkened, daylight fading into the stormy long-ago night that would always be etched on his memory. His mother's screams rang in his ears.

Bregolien urged his horse forward. The movement broke the spell; Legolas' warrior training asserted itself. How Bregolien had escaped was a question for later. He had to deal with the present.

He was capable of defending himself – he was no longer the child he had been when Bregolien had murdered the Elven-queen – but he could not risk throwing the dagger and losing his only weapon. Bregolien was fully armed. Legolas had no illusions. Bregolien meant to finish him. Legolas did not mean to die, but for that he had to find a way to turn the situation in his favour.

Part of him wanted to curse his own foolishness. Despite the relative peace, he almost _never _left the Elven settlement without his bow. He had been too long a warrior; he had lived too long under the threat of Dol Guldur. He had allowed his emotions to get the better of him.

His fingers tightened on the reins.

At any rate, he had to lead Bregolien away from Ithilien.

He wheeled the horse, digging his heels into its side. As it cantered away, he heard Bregolien drawing his bow, and ducked the arrow that whistled past his head.

* * *

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	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **The longest chapter in this fic yet.

I want to think I'll have the next chapter out next week, but it's going to be a very busy week so realistically it'll probably be the week after. But I will do my very best to make it sooner.

I'm also adding Present/Past tags because some people said the chronology is getting confusing – I'll go back and add them to previous chapters soon.

Enjoy this chapter, and many thanks to everyone who reviewed.

* * *

**Part VI**

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Court of the Elven-King: Present**_

"Surely it was not the wisest decision you could have made," says Ellaurë, with a slight smile that takes the sting from her words. "Your friends are experienced warriors and Bregolien was only one Elf. He would have posed no real threat to them."

Legolas flushes as he answers. "Yes, I know. I fear I was not thinking clearly at the time. I thought I was, but… All I was really thinking about was what he did, in the past, to one I loved."

His voice is trembling at the end, which Ellaurë tactfully ignores.

"That is understandable. I expect Bregolien was relying on that. And perhaps," she says, glancing at Saeldur, "the morning's events were on your mind as well."

"Perhaps they were," Legolas says, voice steady now, "and that is my failing, my lady. I have enough experience to know better. I should not have allowed emotion to cloud my judgement, then or earlier. I will not say it was a mistake to go riding unarmed, since Ithilien is at peace. But it is not something I would normally have done."

"Since you have brought it up," says Thorontur, speaking for the first time, "perhaps we _should_ consider that question. I expect you can judge better than anyone else. _Did _Saeldur deliberately goad you into going riding by yourself, unarmed?"

Saeldur sits up straighter to listen to Legolas' answer.

"If he did," says Legolas, so readily that it is obviously something he has thought about, "he chose an uncommonly stupid way to go about it. It would have been so much simpler just to suggest that we go riding and find an excuse to take my bow on the way. For that matter, if Saeldur wanted to kill me, he would not need Bregolien to help him do it."

"That is true," mutters Thorontur. "All the same, Legolas, it was a convenient argument."

Saeldur tries not to glare at the Archery Master. Legolas has a right to be angry, but Thorontur ought to have more on his conscience.

Legolas shrugs. "It was an ill-timed one, my lord. It was not the first time Saeldur and I have argued. If Bregolien had not been waiting, we would not be talking about it now. Besides, how could Saeldur have anticipated that I would work off my frustration by riding? I could have gone to the archery ranges instead. Or asked either Aeroniel or Rochendilwen to spar with me – though that, I admit, I would not normally do when I am not in full control of myself."

"Why do you think Saeldur had an argument with you, then?" demands Arahael, who seems determined to draw attention to himself. "Are you still determined not to see the truth?"

The look Legolas turns on Arahael is the coldest Saeldur has ever seen on his face. "Presumably it may be attributed, at least in part, to the fact that you wrote him a letter full of venomous lies about his brother's fate."

"My letter would not have mattered, if Saeldur had not held you responsible for Candnaur's death." There is a murmur of disapproval at that. "I always knew he did. Any sensible Elf would. Who else should be culpable if _not _you? And how do you know they were lies?"

"What Saeldur holds me responsible for is something Saeldur and I will discuss later. Your opinions on the subject are not necessary." Saeldur lets out a breath. At least Legolas is willing to defend him to this extent. "I know they are lies because Bregolien told me as much. You wanted to manipulate Saeldur, and it appears that you were not above blatant fabrications to do it."

Arahael gets to his feet and takes a furious step towards Legolas.

Before he can take another, Ellaurë's knife is at his throat, and Eredhion, Voronwë and the King's guards have bows drawn with arrows pointing at him.

"If you cannot contain yourself," Ellaurë says, "you will be removed. Sit down."

Arahael does not move.

"Sit _down_," Ellaurë repeats, her tone one that will brook no disobedience.

Arahael sits.

"Legolas, continue. Where did you lead Bregolien?"

* * *

_**Ithilien, Some Distance from the Elven Settlement: Past**_

Legolas had only seconds to decide his path. Bregolien had not, so far, launched a fatal attack, but that could change at any time.

What weapons could he expect Bregolien to have? A bow, obviously, and perhaps a crossbow. Knives or a sword, certainly. Legolas had only his dagger. He could throw to kill, but he might miss, and then he truly would be defenceless. Besides –

Whatever he had done, Bregolien was Rochendilwen's brother. Legolas did not want more blood on his hands.

He either had to find a spot from which he could ambush Bregolien, or force a fight at close quarters. As long as there was distance between them, Bregolien had the advantage. But the forest provided no such opportunity. The trees, while green and promising, came nowhere near matching the dense growth of Eryn Lasgalen. Even if Legolas climbed into one, Bregolien could shoot him out of it without coming near.

He could go north, or…

He glanced towards the east.

He must be insane even to consider it. Even if he had had any hope of reaching the Ephel Dúath before Bregolien caught up with him, he would not go there. There were still too many Orcs crawling through Sauron's fallen stronghold. They did not dare emerge to attack Elves or Men openly, but going into their midst would be stupid.

But there was no need to go as far as the Ephel Dúath. There were smaller buildings, watchtowers and caves that the minions of the Enemy had long since abandoned. They were still tainted with his Evil, and the idea of entering even one of those places sickened and horrified him, but…

Sauron was nothing anymore, he reminded himself. Shelob was dead. If he did happen to run across one or two Orcs still sheltering in the ruins, he could handle them. At least it would give him a chance.

He rode hard, crouching to make himself as small a target as possible. Another arrow flew past him – and then one grazed his arm.

Legolas grunted in pain, but he did not allow his knees to slacken their grip on the horse.

One thing was increasingly certain: even with a Mannish bow, even out of practice, Bregolien was not such a bad shot that he could not have killed Legolas by now. If he had not done it…

Legolas narrowed his eyes. He had no intention at all of being taken alive, but if _that _was Bregolien's plan, he could use it to his advantage.

The horse, responding to the pressure of his knees, veered sharply to the left, allowing Legolas to leap into a tree. If Bregolien was not shooting to kill – yet – he could get to safe haven more easily, and more quickly, through the branches.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Court of the Elven-King: Present**_

"Bregolien was not shooting to kill?" Ellaurë asks, lips pursed. "That sounds unlike him."

"Did he give any indication why?" That is Norgalad, speaking for the first time. Saeldur had even forgotten he was present. As always, Norgalad sounds as though he is mildly disappointed to see Legolas standing. "Not that we are not grateful, of course, but it sounds as though he had enough opportunity, and we know he would not hesitate to kill."

"He was not a good enough archer to be certain he could make it a non-fatal wound," says Legolas. "And he wanted me alive."

"Why?"

"It was what he had agreed upon with Arahael."

"Arahael did not want to kill you, then?" asks Norgalad. "That seems to contradict the letter we read."

"He did not tell Saeldur the full truth in the letter. He _did _want me dead – he still does, I presume," says Legolas, sparing the briefest glance for Arahael. "Just… not immediately."

Saeldur almost chokes. This piece of information is completely new to him. By the horrified expressions on the faces of various Elves around the room – including the King, who is eyeing Arahael with a gaze so dire Saeldur is astonished Arahael has not burst into flame – it is new to everyone.

Norgalad is still speaking. "Why would he not tell Saeldur his true intentions?"

"I cannot say, my lord. I assume even Arahael was not deluded enough to believe Saeldur would consent to… what Bregolien had in mind."

"Bregolien told you his plans, then?"

"He did."

Legolas' answers are getting shorter and his shoulders are stiffening. No matter what he says, this _is _difficult for him.

Norgalad is opening his mouth to ask another question. Saeldur looks incredulously from the King to Ellaurë. Surely _somebody _is going to stop him?

Celephindeth opens her mouth, presumably to do that very thing, but Norgalad forestalls her.

"How do you know he was not simply threatening you?" Norgalad asks. "Or lying?"

"Of all Elves living in Middle-earth, Lord Norgalad," says Legolas, in a tone that makes Saeldur shiver, "I think I have better knowledge than anyone of what Bregolien was capable of threatening, and what he was capable of doing."

"Recess!" Thranduil snaps, before Norgalad can ask anything else. "We will meet again in an hour."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Outside the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

"Try to eat something," Celephindeth urges. "You need to keep up your strength."

Saeldur laughs bitterly, making no attempt to move food to his mouth. "I thought you were so furious you never wanted to speak to me again."

"I was angry with you," Celephindeth agrees. "I _am _angry with you. But however foolish you have been, you are still my son. Your folly does not change that. I am trying to help you."

Alarmed, Saeldur raises his eyes to her face. "Please tell me you are not planning to go and plead with the King or – or with Legolas."

"Certainly not," says his mother. "What good would it do to plead with Thranduil? The only one who might have any influence over him now is Legolas – and I think Legolas, angry as I expect _he_ is, will try to persuade the King to be merciful, if only because it is his duty as your commanding officer. It does not need my intervention."

"I am not worried about what the King will do to me."

"No, you are worried about what Legolas will think." Celephindeth sits beside him. "He has a right to be angry, Saeldur. He could have been killed – _worse_," she adds with a shudder, obviously thinking of what Legolas had said about Bregolien's plans.

Saeldur shakes his head. "Legolas did not survive centuries of war in the Woodland Realm, travelling in the company of the Ring-bearer, attacks by Nazgûl, Curunír's army of Uruk-hai and battle before the Black Gate, only to fall to Arahael and Bregolien. And that is not why he is angry. He is angry because… because he heard about it from other people."

"Yes," Celephindeth says. "I can sympathize."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Outside the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Past**_

Celephindeth, her mind on when the frosts would set in and whether she should pay a visit to Ithilien in the spring or wait another year to give the young Elves more time to restore its beauty, was not expecting the summons. The hour was late, and she was standing at the window admiring the stars, when there came a hard hammering at the front door of the cottage.

"I will see who it is," said Belegur, rising from his book.

Celephindeth heard his footsteps go through the sitting room, followed by the opening of the door and an urgent murmur of conversation in which even her Elven ears could not make out the words.

Belegur returned, looking grave.

"The King has sent for us."

Celephindeth's breath caught. Her first terrified thought was that something terrible had happened to Saeldur, but she could sense his distant presence.

"At this hour? Why?"

"I do not know. We should go at once."

Celephindeth hurried out, snatching her cloak on the way to the door and not stopping to reply to the greetings of the page who had been sent to summon her. She had seen Arbellason only that morning. He had given no indication of anything amiss – surely nothing could have happened to her son in the south, not with the world at peace at last – but her soul was full of dread.

She all but ran through the stronghold, Belegur trailing after her, and barely paused to knock at the door to Thranduil's study before opening it.

Thranduil, Thorontur, Arbellason, Ellaurë and Mídhaer were gathered around the desk, the untidy state of their clothes indicating that they had been rousted from their beds in some haste. Ellaurë's golden hair hung in disarray about her face instead of being in its usual neat braids.

They were poring over a letter in the lamplight. Celephindeth could just see the seal at the bottom: it had come from Ithilien.

"Thranduil," she gasped, too terrified for courtesy. "What has happened?"

One by one, the Elves turned to her. None of them looked friendly.

"When did you last hear from Saeldur?" Ellaurë demanded.

"I…" Not expecting the question, Celephindeth struggled to remember. "I think it was six days ago." She turned to Belegur for confirmation. "There has been nothing since then."

"Yes," he agreed. "Six days ago."

"What did he tell you? Was there anything important?"

"No… nothing unusual. He said the sons of Elrond planned to visit Ithilien, but surely you knew that?"

"She seems to be telling the truth," said Arbellason.

"Of course I am telling the truth!" Anger at the implication that she might lie to the King helped to calm her. "If there is any bad news I must hear, for pity's sake tell me at once! Is Saeldur well?"

"Saeldur is quite well," said Thranduil, after a moment's silence. Despite the words, there was an edge in his voice that Celephindeth did not like.

"He may not be when I have finished with him," added Thorontur grimly.

Contrarily, Thorontur's assertion served to make Celephindeth relax. Saeldur doing something ill-considered and earning the Archery Master's ire was not new.

"What has he done now?" Belegur asked wearily, evidently coming to the same conclusion. "Begun a blood feud with one of the Mannish courtiers? Surely it could have waited until morning."

This time the looks he and Celephindeth received were positively venomous.

"Shut the door," said Thranduil.

Belegur shut it.

The silence stretched.

"Let them read the letter," said Mídhaer. "That is easier than explaining."

Celephindeth stepped forward into the light, taking the letter Arbellason held out to her. She glanced at the bottom, expecting to see Legolas' name, but it was from Aeroniel. It was short, written in an untidy hand that Celephindeth would never have associated with the meticulous young _elleth_.

She glanced at Belegur, who leaned over her shoulder to read it.

_My King,_

_Legolas is in grave danger._

That explained why everybody was so tense.

_Perhaps you know this already – Arahael has released Bregolien from his prison._

Celephindeth drew in a sharp breath. "Bregolien – freed? But – we had no idea." She looked at Thranduil, whose expression confirmed that. "How did we not know?"

"I have sent Maeglad to find out," replied Thranduil. "But that is not the worse of it."

Celephindeth read on.

_I can scarcely believe I am writing this, but there is reason to believe Saeldur has been plotting against Legolas' life with Arahael._

"No!" said Celephindeth. That was utterly absurd.

Nobody replied.

_We found a letter from Arahael among Saeldur's possessions. In it, Arahael told him Bregolien had been freed and intended to come south and murder Legolas. Saeldur said nothing of it to any of us. Had he done so, we might have averted whatever disaster is happening now. Legolas went riding this morning and has not returned yet._

_Saeldur claims he did not read Arahael's letter – we will leave that for you to judge. Rochendilwen, Eredhion and Voronwë have gone after Legolas. I will send word as soon as we know more._

_Aeroniel_

Celephindeth stared at the letter, unable to credit the words.

She had no illusions about her son. Saeldur was hot-tempered and foolish, and he could lack self-control. If, as Belegur had suggested, she had been told that he had begun a blood feud with one of Elessar's courtiers, Celephindeth would have sighed and prepared to scold him for it.

But… _this_? Cold-blooded plotting to murder an Elf – to murder _Legolas_, of all Elves?

"It is impossible," she said aloud. "Saeldur would not – would _never _– not _Legolas_."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Outside the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

"I am sorry," Saeldur murmurs. "For the way you had to find out."

"Saeldur, there would have been no way of finding out that could have made it easier." Celephindeth takes the chair beside him, looking him in the eye. "Tell me something. In all the time that you have, you say, been obtaining information from Arahael, did he say _nothing _to indicate that he wanted to do… more unpleasant things than murder… to Legolas?"

Saeldur forces himself to consider the question calmly.

"No," he says at last. "None."

"Would you have consented if he had told you?"

This time Saeldur does not even try to keep the outrage from his tone. "How can you even ask me that?"

"Is it so unlikely? After all, if Legolas is to blame for what happened to your brother –"

"_Naneth!_"

Saeldur's mother considers him with infuriating coolness. "No, you are not feigning it. You truly do not blame Legolas."

"Of course I do not blame Legolas," Saeldur snaps.

"Then why quarrel with him about it?" Saeldur shakes his head, but she leans forward insistently. "I am trying to help you Saeldur. You must consider that question. It is important."

"I know," Saeldur says, tired now. "Legolas said someone in court would be bound to ask it." He stares down at his hands. "Legolas thinks I blame him. He did not say it, but… I know him. I know he is thinking it. And he holds himself responsible, as he does for every Elf who has fallen or been injured under his command."

"I am not saying he is culpable," Celephindeth says quietly. "But it is natural that he should feel responsible – and it is right. We would not want the King's warriors led by Elves who would spend the lives of those under them and feel nothing."

"It is natural that Legolas should feel that I support him," Saeldur retorts. "And he _would _if not for – it was unfortunate timing. It is not the first time we have argued and if Legolas had not run across Bregolien… he would have returned and I would have apologized and that would have been the end of it. Legolas does not seriously believe I was plotting to murder him."

"Are you so certain? He is obviously distressed –"

"Because he thinks I do not trust him."

"That is not an unreasonable belief under the circumstances. You must consider _why _you found Arahael's letter so disturbing – yes, I know you loved your brother. And I know you love Legolas. Why, when you knew of Arahael's hatred for Legolas – none better, by your own admission – when you knew Aeroniel had been present and had seen everything – why did you let it upset you so much?"

Saeldur looks at her, but it is not his mother he sees. He is, once more, on the battlefield all those years ago, amidst the noise and the chaos, turning at the sound of a cry of pain to see the bright-haired figure fall, feeling cold horror freeze his limbs –

"I do not know," he says quietly.

This time he is lying.

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **Here it is, and the same caveat applies… I'll try to have the next part up in a week, but no promises.

Many thanks to everyone who's been reviewing the story – I love reading the reviews!

Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Part VII**

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Outside the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

"Eat," Mídhaer urges Éowyn. "I spoke to Galion. He assured me this is all safe for mortals. Estel – King Elessar – has visited us often, so the cooks are well informed about what Men eat."

Éowyn laughs and helps herself to more soup. Like the waybread with which the Elves filled their packs for the journey to Eryn Lasgalen, it is light but filling.

She did not want to give either Legolas or Thranduil the trouble of escorting her to the dining hall for lunch when they must both have so much to do before court meets again, and Legolas, at least, looked like he needed some time to himself. So she willingly – eagerly – accepted Rochendilwen's invitation to join her at her aunt's home.

"It was good of you to come all this way, Lady Éowyn," Mídhaer says, ladling soup into her own bowl. "You must have many duties in Ithilien."

Éowyn laughs ruefully. "I think they might get on better in my absence. I was mistress of my uncle's hall in Rohan, but the ways of Gondor are very different… I do not come only on my own behalf. Legolas is a friend to us all - the King and Queen of Gondor as well as Faramir and myself. I was the only one who could be spared for this long. Besides, I have wanted to see Eryn Lasgalen ever since I first met Aeroniel and Rochendilwen. I…" She flushes. "I do not mean I am glad for… for all _this_, but…"

"I understand," says Mídhaer. "This is a dark moment for us, and when we had thought darkness in the past. If any good comes of it, we will all be grateful. We are all delighted to meet you, although I do wish the circumstances were different."

Mídhaer is like Rochendilwen, dark-haired and dark-eyed. She does not have the slightly wild, fierce quality that her niece does, but she seems dangerous all the same, like the sheathed sword at her waist.

Normally, Aeroniel whispered to Éowyn this morning, weapons are not allowed in court, but, given the circumstances, the Royal Guard and the members of the King's War Council – including Lady Mídhaer and Legolas himself – are armed.

Mídhaer notices her staring at the sword and smiles.

"Perhaps, when this is all over, you will spar with me," she says. Éowyn flushes again, mumbles apologies, and explains that she has not formally learnt the sword – not as she has seen Elves practicing it – but Mídhaer shakes her head. "You, Lady Éowyn, the slayer of the Witch-king of Angmar – your deeds speak to your skill."

"I had good fortune on my side," says Éowyn, "and a stout companion."

"Both are advantages whose value cannot be underestimated. All the same, you would not have stood against the Lord of the Nazgûl for a second without some prowess with your sword. But if you wish to practice the sword as we do in Eryn Lasgalen, I will gladly show you our ways. You can have little hope of learning in Ithilien, filled as it is with children who chose the bow."

Rochendilwen laughs; this is clearly an old argument. "And is a bow not more useful when you are in the trees, your numbers are few, and you wish to eliminate as many enemies as possible before they notice your presence?"

"Finish your lunch," says Mídhaer tolerantly. "I will admit that Legolas' archers, at least, are somewhat capable, even if none of you ever managed to satisfy Maeglad."

"Lord Maeglad is the Sword Master," Rochendilwen explains to Éowyn. "Such years of drills as he made us endure… Legolas said it was he who was sent to Bregolien's cell." She turns to her aunt.

Mídhaer nods. "Thranduil sent him to see what had happened, when we received Aeroniel's letter."

"How _did _Arahael release Bregolien without anybody knowing?"

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Past**_

Mídhaer could not help feeling some sympathy for Celephindeth. She had been in a similar position herself, years previously, when her nephew Bregolien had murdered his own mother and then the Queen, before nearly killing Legolas as well. She understood something of what Celephindeth must feel.

To her credit, after the initial shock had passed, Celephindeth did not make further protestations of Saeldur's innocence. She read the letter again before handing it back to Arbellason, and asked, in an admirably steady voice, "What can I do to help?"

"Are you certain you _want _to help?" Ellaurë asked wryly.

Mídhaer was not fooled by the tone. Ellaurë wanted to know how far Celephindeth could be trusted. She was normally even-tempered, but she and Lindariel had been close friends. Ellaurë would have very little sympathy for whoever helped the Elven-queen's murderer escape.

Celephindeth turned to her. "Are you asking if I understand that my son is likely to face some… unpleasantness? I am aware of that. I still do not believe that Saeldur would plot to murder Legolas, who is more his brother than Candnaur ever was. If all Aeroniel says is true – and I have no reason to doubt her – Saeldur seems to have been very foolish. Aside from own feelings – I _do _like Legolas, no matter what you think – Saeldur will never forgive himself if Legolas' life is the price of his folly."

Ellaurë glanced at Arbellason, who gave a minute shrug.

"Look at it this way," said Celephindeth. "Even if, as you seem to suspect, I want to preserve Saeldur from the consequences of his actions, whether unwitting or deliberate, my only hope is in doing all I can to ensure that Legolas emerges unscathed. Alive, he is the only Elf who _might _be able to persuade Thranduil to show mercy. Dead…"

"Enough," Arbellason snapped, even as Thranduil paled. "If you truly want to help… Belegur, please go and bring Saeldur's letters. Any that you can find. Celephindeth… wait here. Once Maeglad returns, we will have more information."

They did not have to wait long. Belegur had only been gone for a few minutes when Maeglad entered the room, dragging an _elleth _by the arm. She was wearing a long cloak that served to obscure her form. She had evidently resisted coming: he had scratches down his arm and hand and a bruise forming on his cheek. The _elleth _was unhurt, but clearly furious.

"Amarthiel!" Arbellason's voice echoed the shock they all must feel.

Arahael's mother, her grey eyes glittering like jewels, pushed Maeglad away angrily and stood facing them.

"Would you like to explain?" Thranduil asked Maeglad.

"She was in Bregolien's cell," Maeglad said, taking a step back to block the doorway. "I sent the guards away – they are on shifts. There is nothing to be gained by questioning them until we find out who was on duty when Bregolien was released. But now we know why nobody suspected anything. _She _was in the cell in his place. I do not suppose the maids or the guards ever exchanged words with Bregolien. It was an easy deception."

"You changed places with Bregolien?" Mídhaer asked, unable to believe her ears. "_Why?_"

"Only temporarily," Amarthiel said, unconcerned. "The maid who takes Bregolien his meals is a fool. I covered my head and sat in the corner and she did not give me a second glance. We could have left a bundle of rags in his place and I doubt she would have known."

"But… did nobody wonder where you were?"

"Arahael and I told our friends we were going to Lórien to visit our kin. Travel is free and easy now. Nobody doubted us. Why should they?"

"Let me understand you clearly," said Thranduil. There was a note in his voice that made even Mídhaer shiver. "You were so eager to cause my son's death that you released a dangerous prisoner – one who is guilty of Kinslaying and treason – and took his place, after telling your friends that you would be in Lothlórien, so that his escape would go unnoticed. All this was so that Bregolien would go to Ithilien and kill Legolas. Is that correct?"

"Yes." Amarthiel's eyes gleamed, and Mídhaer wondered if she was entirely sane.

"_Why _would you do this?" asked Ellaurë, evidently thinking the same thing. "The Ring has been destroyed – the War is won – and our remaining time in Middle-earth is numbered in years. You could not possibly have thought that there was anything to be gained by killing Legolas."

"Is that what you think this is about?"

Celephindeth took several steps away from Amarthiel. The move only drew her attention; she rounded on Celephindeth, and smiled.

"You are here as well. Thranduil has learnt everything, then." She tossed her head defiantly, looking at the King. "Do what you will to me. I care not. It is too late for you to save your son. Bregolien is there by now."

Another quick knock at the door was followed by the entry of one of the Elves of the Royal Guard.

"My King," he said, bowing. "I did as you asked. Arahael is not near the stronghold. I have sent scouts to search the forest, but I am told that he has gone to Gondor."

"Find out when he left," Thranduil demanded.

"He left shortly after Bregolien," said Amarthiel. "You see? It is too late."

"Thranduil," said Ellaurë, "we can still go after him."

"Riding as hard as you can, it will take you days to reach Ithilien. By then it will all be over. Perhaps, even now…" Amarthiel looked at Thranduil. "No, you can still sense Legolas' _fëa _in Middle-earth, I see. Well, no matter. It will be done soon."

"Thranduil," said Arbellason, "what should we do?"

Thranduil shook himself, and took the letter from Arbellason to read again.

"We cannot go yet," he said at last. "Aeroniel will have things in hand in Ithilien. Legolas' guards are there and they have my authority to take any action in his defence. It is important that we find out whatever there is to learn _here_ before we set out." He looked at Ellaurë. "Wake Bercalion. Arahael was under his command. Then have someone search Amarthiel's home and Arahael's room in the warriors' quarters." He crushed the letter in his fist. "If anyone else is implicated, arrest them and bring them here."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

"Eat something," Elladan urges, and then laughs when Legolas scowls at him. "How many people have been by to tell you that already? I did not want you to think I was not equally concerned –"

"Have you nowhere else to be?" Legolas demands, but there is no heat in his words.

Rochendilwen hurried up to him when his father called for a recess to whisper that she and her aunt would give Éowyn lunch, while Aeroniel and Colfind took charge of the Mannish warriors Faramir sent as her escort. That left Legolas free, for which he is grateful.

What he is not, is hungry.

"Where are Eredhion and Voronwë?" Elrohir asks.

"Speaking to Lady Amarthiel."

"What? Again? They have spent nearly every spare moment speaking to her since we arrived."

Legolas shrugs. "They think she is concealing something. Perhaps she is, but I see little point asking her about it. It is unlikely to make much difference."

"Why is she not being summoned to court?" Elladan asks curiously. "She seems to have had far greater involvement in this than Saeldur."

Legolas scoffs. "Saeldur has been a fool." After a moment, he goes on, "Lady Ellaurë told me she thinks Lady Amarthiel has been… very badly affected… by her grief. Oh, I do not mean that she did not know what she was doing – my father suspects that she was involved in Lord Míron's schemes from the very first. But whatever her original purpose of, nothing remains of _that _any longer. She only wants to avenge herself for his death. There is no point making a spectacle of it by asking her to speak. She will be sent to Mithlond. There are still some there who will help her take ship."

"Never mind Lady Amarthiel," says Elrohir. "She poses no further threat. Do you truly think that was the extent of Saeldur's involvement… being foolish? We can see how much it disturbs you, Legolas – everyone can."

Legolas sighs. "Mithrandir told me once, years ago, that if I had doubts of Saeldur's… loyalty… then that meant it was truly myself and my own judgement that I doubted."

"Trust Mithrandir to say something like that and then sail to Valinor and leave us to handle the outcome." Elrohir leans back in his chair. "If you think your judgement of Saeldur has been at fault, you are not the only one. Nobody who has known him would think it even remotely possible that he would betray you."

"He did not mean that I should come to harm," Legolas says.

"And that is not the same thing, is it?" says Elladan. "What, then? Do you think he read the second page of the letter and chose to say nothing about it?"

Legolas shakes his head firmly. "No – not that. I phrased it badly. Saeldur never can quite govern his temper. This is not the first time it has led him into trouble. The trees told me – long ago – oh, not everything, but that he and Arahael spoke about… well, about the possibility of Saeldur taking my place. Estel hinted it to me as well. I thought then and I think now that that part of what Saeldur says is true. He was trying to help me."

"But…?" prompts Elrohir.

"_But_, why did he never tell me about it?" Legolas stares down at his clasped hands. "I do not know the extent of… of what Saeldur discussed with Míron and Arahael, or what they said to him. I never asked him because I thought he would tell me if there was anything I ought to know… But _why_ did he feel he could not tell me? He must truly does believe I felt… threatened… by Candnaur… and I expect he thought –"

"He thought what?" interrupts Elrohir. "Saeldur thought you would feel threatened by _him _and so he could not speak openly to you lest you have him taken by Orcs? That is absurd."

"No, not that I would have him taken by _Orcs_, but… one thing that _is_ clear is that Saeldur has still not forgiven me for Candnaur's death –"

"Saeldur and I are going to have words about that," Elrohir growls.

Legolas shakes his head. "I do not say Saeldur is wrong. I would never willingly have caused Candnaur harm, but I was there, and I was in command. What happened was my responsibility."

"It was your responsibility," Elladan agrees, "but that does not mean you could have prevented it. You could have sent him home, and he might have been killed on the way. And I think you are wrong. Saeldur may say it when he is angry, but he certainly does not think you were trying to eliminate Candnaur."

"You _must _know that," Elrohir adds.

Legolas wishes he could believe it.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-King: Present**_

The court has reconvened. Legolas has not taken his place beside the King, since he must continue his account where he stopped. He and Ellaurë are standing to one side, talking softly. Saeldur wishes he could go nearer.

As though sensing his gaze – and perhaps he is; over the centuries he and Saeldur have learnt to communicate without words – Legolas looks up. As Saeldur had hoped, Legolas comes to him. He casts a quick glance at Eredhion and Voronwë. They are watching, carefully, both ready to act if either Saeldur or Arahael seems to be a threat, but they make no move to stop Legolas.

"What is it?" Legolas asks, not unkindly.

"How can I make it easier for you?"

In other days, Saeldur would not have needed to ask. In other days, he would have been standing with Legolas, ready with a hand on his shoulder or a pat on his back or a glare to silence someone questioning him too closely.

"Nothing about this is easy." Legolas sounds uncharacteristically bitter, not that Saeldur can blame him.

"I did not intend to… to _send _you to Bregolien."

"I know that, Saeldur," Legolas says, turning away. "Istuion is about to call –"

"I do not blame you for Candnaur's death."

Legolas turns back and looks at Saeldur, blue eyes wide, obviously caught off guard. Before he can respond or Saeldur can say anything further, the court is called to order. Saeldur must resume his seat. Legolas goes back to the middle of the room, bracing himself as though against an army.

* * *

_**Ithilien, Some Distance from the Elven Settlement: Past**_

Legolas paused for a moment, hand going to his throat. If he dropped his brooch it would be a sign, if anyone came here in search of him. He did not know whether to hope someone did or not. Sooner or later his friends would wonder why he had not returned, and they had been warriors too long to send a search party out unarmed.

Legolas allowed himself a wry smile.

He was beginning to think he had not done the wisest thing in leading Bregolien into this forsaken corner.

But he was here now, and there was no point reflecting on the past. He would have to do the best he could.

His hand found nothing. The brooch must have fallen earlier.

Legolas did not stop to wonder how and where. Already he could hear the hooves of Bregolien's horse. He leapt from the tree and ran into the crumbling tower.

Inside, he stopped to get his bearings. The windows were narrow and did not allow much light, but he could see that the building must once have been a watchtower. On the opposite wall was a rack that must have held weapons, though nothing now remained of them but a mouldering crossbow with no bolts.

A staircase rose beside him, hugging the walls. It did not afford much concealment, but it was better than nothing.

Legolas scrambled up it, pressing himself to the wall just as he heard Bregolien's horse canter up outside.

Bregolien did not enter at once. Legolas could see his shadow in the doorway. If he entered… Legolas crouched, sliding his dagger out of his belt with his left hand, prepared. It was a slim chance, but it was the only one he had at the moment.

As soon as Bregolien stepped into the building, Legolas jumped.

He landed on Bregolien, bearing them both to the ground. He managed to slash the dagger across Bregolien's right arm, making him drop his sword. Then Bregolien snarled and grasped Legolas' wrist, pushing it above his head with brutal strength, while his free hand reached behind his back for a knife.

Legolas grunted. He had forgotten how strong Bregolien was.

"This will be so much better," Bregolien crooned, as Legolas managed to twist his hand free. He slashed at Bregolein's arm again, but this time Bregolien was ready for him and kicked him off with such force that Legolas fell back, his head slamming into the stone wall. "Still weak, Legolas." Bregolien leapt to his feet, knife in his hand. "You should have started with a killing blow."

Disorientated by the blow to the head, Legolas just managed to duck a cut that would have gone into his shoulder.

He had been right. Bregolien was not trying to kill him.

"What do you want?" Legolas demanded, taking a stumbling step away. If he could distract Bregolien long enough to reach the dropped sword…

"From you? I want you to fight me. That will make everything so much more… interesting."

"That is no answer."

Legolas took another step back. Before he could take a third, Bregolien jumped at him. They went down again. Legolas could not bite back a groan when his head hit the ground. Apparently the years imprisoned had done little damage to Bregolien's raw strength – if anything, he was more savage now.

"You will know what I want," Bregolien hissed, pressing a knee into Legolas' chest with all his weight behind it. Legolas struggled to take a breath. "I promise you that."

His arm came down across Legolas' throat.

The world went dark.

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** All these chapters are turning out longer than I intend when I'm done editing… oh, well. This one has taken a little longer than expected (and the next two or three might as well) since I had to do a bit of rearranging when I realized that one scene I'd planned for later really needed to be here.

Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Part VIII**

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-King: Present**_

"Are you certain you want to go in?"

Éowyn glances to her left.

She, Aeroniel and Rochendilwen are returning to court late, since Aeroniel and Rochendilwen had to speak with the archers. Many of them are disturbed by what is happening, horrified at the thought that one of their own should have betrayed their beloved commander, and, worst of all, terrified that, by following Saeldur's orders, they did harm to Legolas.

Aeroniel's murmur is directed at Rochendilwen, who is on Éowyn's other side.

"I _saw_ the end of it," Rochendilwen says. "How difficult is it to listen?"

"That is precisely my point. You were there – you saw _enough_. There is no need to make things more difficult for yourself."

"I am staying. I must know what happened that I did _not_ see. However bad it is, I _must _know."

"There is no need to impose penance on yourself," Aeroniel says quietly. "Nobody expects you to attend if it brings you too much grief – Legolas least of all."

"I know what that grief is like," Éowyn offers. "That is – I cannot say I know exactly what you feel. If Éomer did something like that, I do not know if I could stand it. But I saw my uncle in his darkest days, when Saruman had control of his mind. I did not know, then, that it was Saruman's power – I thought only that my uncle, who had always been like a father to me, was listening to the evil counsel of the one we called Wormtongue. I could hardly bear to see him reduced to a cowering shadow, he who had once been a mighty lord of the Rohirrim."

"That must have been difficult," Rochendilwen says. "But I can claim no such extenuation for my brother. He was influenced by nobody of Curunír's power. I do not say he was always evil, but he always had a capacity for cruelty. I should have recognized it far sooner than I did."

"You are not responsible for what Bregolien did," Aeroniel tells her firmly.

"I know I am not," Rochendilwen replies. "All the same, I must know what he did, lest I imagine things that are far worse. I am not going to put Legolas to the difficulty of telling this story again. Bad enough that he must do it once."

With a determined step, Rochendilwen leads the way into the room.

* * *

_**Ithilien, Some Distance from the Elven Settlement: Past**_

Legolas opened his eyes to darkness.

For a moment he was on the verge of panic, thinking it absolute, but then he realized there was a faint beam of light coming from somewhere above.

He tried to move, and found that he could not. His hands were bound together behind him, and tied to something solid and metallic. He felt a gag biting into his cheek.

"What do you think the Orcs did with their prisoners here?" came a whisper next to him.

He turned sharply. He could just see the glitter of Bregolien's eyes. He tried to demand what the other Elf wanted, but all that came through the gag was a muffled grunt.

"Wait," Bregolien murmured. "I will let you speak. But I am not certain they have gone… Oh. You do not know, of course. Your friends are here looking for you. It appears that my sister warned them. Fortunately, I knew how to open the hidden door in the floor. They will never find it."

Legolas' eyes widened. How long had he been unconscious?

"Do not worry," Bregolien said softly, as though reading his thoughts. "Your head injury is not that serious. I managed to get some suitable herbs into you. I was able to obtain an excellent supply before I left… Eryn Lasgalen, I believe it is called now? So much has changed."

Legolas twisted his wrists, to no avail. There was not the slightest bit of slack in the ropes.

He looked around, feeling panic rise again. He could not quite remember now why he had thought it wise to try to make a stand in the tower – quite possibly he was still incapable of rational decision-making when Bregolien was involved.

_Bregolien_ was involved.

Legolas felt his breath shortening. The darkness seemed to press in upon him, worse than Moria had been, and in the oppressive silence was the sound of his mother screaming.

He forced himself to stay calm and slow his breathing.

He was not the child he had been, and whatever errors of judgement he had made thus far, he was alive and relatively unhurt. It was unlikely that Bregolien intended to sit here in the darkness until they both starved. Legolas could still retrieve the situation.

"You do not like it here, do you?" Bregolien was so close Legolas could feel the other Elf's breath ghosting over his ear. He shuddered. "You were always a child of light. But your father kept me in the darkness for so long… I have made it my friend."

Legolas tried to move his feet and found that, although he could draw his legs up, his ankles were bound together as well. He could still feel the pain of the arrow wound, but it was not so bad that he could not wield a weapon if he could get his hands on one.

"I learnt a great deal before I left Eryn Lasgalen," Bregolien went on. "I spent a few hours with Arahael. He always was less a fool than the rest… Proud, yes, like all the little Sindarin lordlings who thought they owned Middle-earth. But not a fool. He told me many things."

Legolas doubted any of the things Arahael had told Bregolien would make pleasant hearing. He tried to shut out Bregolien's voice, but it was impossible. In the darkness and the silence it was as though he could hear nothing else.

"You killed Saeldur's brother… oh, I know, to save him from Orcs. I heard. Arahael thought it was odd that it should have fallen to you to do that when Saeldur and Aeroniel were there as well. But there, if it matters to you, I acquit you, even if nobody else can. Aeroniel was never as good an archer as you. Saeldur came close, but I can believe that he could not have made the shot. He never could steady his hand under stress."

Legolas tried to relax. If Bregolien intended to talk, he might as well use the opportunity to learn as much as he could so he would be ready as soon as a chance for escape presented itself.

"Do you remember those exercises we did, Legolas? You hated them, I think, but your hand never shook. I was impressed. Saeldur, though… Well, I suppose he must be grateful that you were there to do what he could not for Candnaur. Is he?"

Legolas tried to pull away. Bregolien laughed.

"You have not changed in the slightest, Legolas. Perhaps you have become a better warrior – I have not had much opportunity to judge. But you are still a child."

Legolas heard Bregolien get to his feet.

"I believe they have gone. Let me check."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-King: Present**_

"One thing I do not understand," says Lord Arbellason, "is why Bregolien wrote to Rochendilwen at all. Whatever his intentions were towards you, he could not have thought that his purpose would be _helped _by warning your friends."

"From what he told me, Arahael gave him a garbled account of Lord Míron's actions and motivations. I gather they did not have a great deal of time. Bregolien seems to have been under the impression that the archers were… disaffected… by my decision to accompany the Halfling Frodo Baggins on his quest –"

"You abandoned the Woodland Realm," Arahael spits. "You forsook your _duty _as commander of the archers."

Legolas looks at him. "I assure you it was not a decision I took without a great deal of thought."

"And _you, _Arahael," says Ellaurë coldly, "and your allies were deeply concerned about that very thing, as we heard in this court the last time an attempt was made on Legolas' life. That Legolas should not be here when the final battle came: was that not your aim?"

"That was what we knew must happen. But I did not think it would be because Legolas was afraid of his duty."

Even Norgalad does not rise to that bait. He does not love Legolas, but he respects the warriors who have served and defended the realm.

Legolas himself only shakes his head. "If I were going to feel any guilt about that, Lord Arahael, I assure you it would not be on your account. I had faith in Saeldur's ability to command the archers in my absence, and I had another duty."

"A higher duty than to this realm?"

"Do you honestly think," Arbellason says, before Legolas can answer, "that Prince Legolas was afraid of his duties here and in order to avoid them he chose to escort the bearer of Sauron's Ring through Moria, encounter a Balrog, fight the armies of Sauron and his allies on the Pelennor Fields, and offer battle on the Dagorlad before the Black Gate? You are not that stupid, Arahael. I cannot believe that you truly imagined such a thing to be true. It is now clear, if anybody had any doubt, that Melda and your father misinterpreted a snatch of overheard conversation. I suggest that you stop wasting time. If you must speak, tell us what your true purpose was."

Arahael compresses his lips and looks away.

"Bregolien always did hope to involve Rochendilwen in his plans," Legolas goes on. "I think, to the extent that he was capable of it, he was fond of her."

"We can worry about Bregolien's motivations later," says the King. He sounds weary. "I am sure he had some vile plan that we are all better off forgetting. Go on, Legolas."

* * *

_**Ithilien, Near the Elven Settlement: Past **_

Bregolien returned very quickly. He did not shut the trapdoor all the way. A little more light filtered into the underground room, enough that Legolas could see his face. His eyes gleamed with something very close to madness. He had had years to brood upon his wrongs.

"Your friends are no longer in the tower," he said, "but I suspect they are still in the forest nearby, searching for you. You do inspire loyalty, Legolas. It is unfortunate that it is not in everyone."

Legolas wriggled his wrists. Something sharp caught at his hand – a loose nail, perhaps, or a jagged edge of stone.

He thanked the Valar that he was still in the shadows.

Bregolien was still speaking. "We cannot leave – yet. I know how the trees always try to come to your aid. We will need to find a way to direct your friends elsewhere." Bregolien studied Legolas. "I need to speak to you, so I am going to remove the gag. But make a loud noise or try to attract attention, and you die."

Legolas very nearly rolled his eyes before he reminded himself that there was no point antagonizing Bregolien.

Bregolien took out his knife and cut the gag off roughly.

"Are you so confident that nobody is returning here?" Legolas asked. "You have left the door open."

"I will hear your friends long before they are near enough to see it. I must send a message, and then I will shut it."

"What message?"

Bregolien considered him, and then shrugged. "I might as well tell you. You will know soon enough. I had a plan, which must now be modified, since I misjudged my sister's response to my letter. I was going to take you to Arahael. Most of the road is over the open plain. It would have been easy. Unfortunately that is no longer viable. He will have to come here."

That gave Legolas some time, at least.

"We are going to sit here until your message can reach Eryn Lasgalen and Arahael can return?"

"Arahael will be nearby. He intended to leave shortly after I did. I had hoped to take you to Minas Tirith –"

"Minas Tirith? You have grown confident of your abilities if you thought you could hold me there."

"Yes, I know the Mannish brat is King there, and Elrond's daughter is Queen. The Lady Undómiel always was fond of you, and Arahael tells me this King _Elessar _is as well. What of it? The city is an anthill. Traders and farmers are constantly in and out with sacks of provisions and goods for sale. Who would notice one more man with a bundle on his horse? And the rest of this would have been so much easier in Minas Tirith… Still, I can manage here."

"Manage what?" Legolas asked, not liking the sound of that.

"Arahael tells me his father was killed and the name of the killer has been concealed for many years." Bregolien smiled. "I can understand that sort of frustration, though I must say Arahael's handling of the situation seems to have been singularly inept. I gather he simply pestered Saeldur to find out."

Legolas did not bother to respond.

Bregolien tapped his jaw with the knife.

"He offered to release me if I got him an answer. I could threaten to kill you if you do not tell me who was responsible for Lord Míron's death, but we both know you are going to die anyway."

"Then what is the point of this?"

"You must have guessed by now that I told Arahael I saw Candnaur in Dol Guldur."

"His lies came from _you_?"

"I do not know that they were lies. I saw Elves in torment in Dol Guldur. Some had already been twisted into Sauron's service. They were unrecognizable. It is possible that one of them was Candnaur."

Legolas scoffed.

Bregolien shrugged. "Yes, unlikely, I know. But we can sacrifice truth for a greater cause – in this case, the cause of a greater truth. Arahael seemed confident that what I told him would be enough to persuade Saeldur to help us. You are here, so I can only assume that he was correct. And now, once Arahael gets here, you are going to tell us who killed his father."

"I am telling you nothing," Legolas spat.

"I assure you, you are mistaken." The tip of the knife traced a line down Legolas' neck. Legolas felt a trickle of blood. "I may not have seen Candnaur, but that I have been in Dol Guldur is true. I have been in other places as well. By the time I have finished, Legolas, you will be begging to tell me anything I want in exchange for a quick death."

Bregolien pulled back abruptly and got to his feet. "But first I must send a message to Arahael. He wanted to be present himself to be certain that I was getting the truth from you. I warned him the sight might turn his stomach, but… We will see how much courage he has."

Bregolien pushed open the trapdoor to the light that was now beginning to fade, and heaved himself up.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-King: Present**_

Saeldur's veins have turned to ice. He thinks he might be violently ill right here.

This was all to find out who killed Míron? Saeldur has always known that Arahael holds Legolas responsible for his father's death, since Míron was killed to save Legolas, but that he would go to this extent to find out who struck the blow…

Ellaurë is asking Legolas something about how Bregolien persuaded a bird to carry a message for him, but Saeldur does not care. He knows that the members of the King's court must hear everything, but it seems astonishing that she can focus on such insignificant details instead of the fact that Bregolien intended to torture the information out of Legolas. To torture Legolas as Elves were tortured in Dol Guldur.

"Tell me he did not do _that_ to you," Saeldur whispers. "_Please._"

His voice is barely audible, but Legolas and Ellaurë hear him. Ellaurë stops her questioning to let Legolas answer. Perhaps she needs to hear it as well.

"He did not," Legolas affirms quietly. "Arahael never got to us in any case. Estel intercepted him near Minas Tirith."

Saeldur has never felt as grateful to the Man – or for that matter to any Man, and scarcely any Elf – as he does now.

He looks at Arahael, who is watching Legolas too closely for Saeldur's liking.

"All this was to find out who killed your father?"

Arahael tries to shrug nonchalantly, but there is grief in his face and his voice. "I do not know who killed him, but I know _why _he was killed. He was killed so Legolas could live. I wanted – I hoped – to have justice of his murderer, if I could get a name from Legolas. If not… at least I could eliminate the cause of his death. That would not have been enough, but it would have been something."

"Legolas did not cause your father's death," Arbellason says sharply. "_Míron _caused it, himself, when he entered Legolas' sitting room intent on murder. Had he not done so, he would be alive today."

"Had someone not judged Legolas' life worth more than my father's, he would be alive today!"

"If you had _asked _me," Saeldur begins, but he does not finish the sentence. He already knows the answer to that.

"I _did _ask you!" Arahael snaps at him. "You told me you did not know and Legolas would not discuss it with you."

This is unbearable.

"I _lied_."

"Saeldur," Legolas interjects, "there is no need –"

"Yes, there is. It is not worth your life, or – or whatever Bregolien intended to do to you. I have not dared to speak all this time. If I had known – I would have told him, if I had known that he would go to such an extreme, that it would end in _this –_"

"I _know_. But it is over. There is no need to go into the matter."

"What manner of Elf would I be to stay silent now?" Saeldur turns to Arahael, who is looking at him with a very odd expression, as though he is just realizing what Saeldur means. Everyone else is completely silent. "You want to know who killed your father? I will tell you. _I_ killed your father."

"_You_," Arahael hisses.

"Yes."

"_You _killed him?"

"He had a knife to Legolas' throat. Yes, I killed him. I would do it again."

"For _Legolas_? For the Elf who is responsible for your brother's death?"

"_Arahael_," Ellaurë says firmly. "Enough." She glances at Thranduil, who gives her a slight nod. "I think, under the circumstances, you need time to gather yourself. Your grief for your father does not lessen the severity of your crimes. That you were willing to torture _anybody_, leave alone an Elf and our Prince, for information, is abhorrent. Nevertheless, we will give you more consideration than you deserve." She glances at the guards waiting by the door. "Take him to his home. Guard the doors and windows, but allow him privacy to speak to his mother, if he wishes."

"We will meet again in the morning," says the King. "Dismissed."

As Elves begin to stream out of the room, Saeldur dares to look Legolas in the eye. He cannot tell what Legolas is thinking. If he is reflecting on the fact that his suffering was because Saeldur was too much of a coward to admit to his own actions, there is no sign of it on his face.

All Saeldur can think of is the night, centuries ago, when Legolas, voice shaking, confessed to him how much the idea of being in Bregolien's hands again terrified him.

"Legolas," Saeldur says, too softly for anybody but the two of them to hear, "tell me you would have _told _Bregolien before he hurt you – more than he already did."

"He never intended to let me live," Legolas replies quietly. "And I made a promise."

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **I was travelling, which isn't much of an excuse, I know. I'm sorry this was so late, but it's rather longer than usual to make up. I'll be able to have the next chapter up sooner, I hope.

Although this is a longer chapter, it's more interlude-ish, so there's not a lot of action – that'll pick up again in the next.

Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Part IX**

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Outside the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

"_You_ killed Míron?"

Now that he has said it in court, Saeldur does not fear his mother's reaction as he would have done even a few weeks ago. And although she does not seem pleased about it, she is not as horrified as he expected.

Of _course_ she is not. She, along with the rest of the King's court, already knew that Míron was killed while trying to murder Legolas. She might even have had her suspicions.

"Who did you think had done it?" Saeldur asks, genuinely wanting to know.

Celephindeth shrugs. "To tell you the truth, I did not think very much about it. I did not want to, knowing the possibilities. I knew if Legolas or Thranduil had killed him, it would have been announced openly. As it would have been if Arbellason had done it. That left the Royal Guard or Legolas' friends, since nobody else was permitted in the Royal Quarters that day… I cannot say it never occurred to me, but I did not truly think it was you. You _did_ seem disturbed – and less communicative than usual – but I assumed, as your father did, that Legolas had told you everything and you wanted to avoid unwarily naming the Elf concerned."

"Are you angry?"

She sits back, considering him.

They are alone; Saeldur's father has not yet returned, and the guard tasked with watching Saeldur has contented himself with barring the windows and standing outside the cottage door.

"Tell me what happened," she says.

Saeldur shrugs. He thought it would be impossible to speak of it, but it is far easier than… everything else.

"I was sitting with Legolas. I know there is no reason for you to believe me, but I was about to tell him everything. I went into his bedroom to get him a cloak and… and to think about how to put it all. Míron came into the sitting room and pulled him out. Legolas was still weak or he would never have done it. When I came back, they were in the corridor. The King and Arbellason were at the other end of the corridor – and Eredhion or Voronwë, I do not remember which – but Míron was holding Legolas in front of him and none of them had a clear line."

"But you did."

"Yes, from Legolas' sitting room. I was behind them. I thought, at first, of incapacitating Míron with a shot to the arm, but if I had done that, he could still have cut Legolas' throat. So I killed him." Saeldur laughs bitterly. "And it was my fault. If I had told Legolas how far it had gone, Míron would have been arrested long before it came to that."

"I cannot be angry with you for killing him," Celephindeth says slowly. "You acted to defend Legolas from a traitor. I would expect no less. But why did you not tell anyone?"

"I did not know how. At first I did not plan to conceal it. I only wanted to tell Arahael before it became public knowledge. I thought I owed him that much. But when it came to the point, I could not find the words." Saeldur shudders. "I know now how much courage it must have taken for Legolas to come and tell you about Candnaur."

Celephindeth compresses her lips.

"Forgive me, I did not intend to remind you of that. Nobody blames you for being affected by Candnaur's death," Saeldur assures her.

"Perhaps they should. I showed, at the very least, a shocking lack of decorum. I cannot help thinking that if I had been more sensible, Míron and Arahael might never have been emboldened into believing that _you_ might be willing to help them."

"You cannot know that. I was not guiltless in that, _Naneth_. In my grief, I allowed Arahael to say things about Legolas that I would normally never have permitted."

Celephindeth sighs. "Your friendship with him hasworried me. Perhaps I shouldhave done more to keep you from spending so much time with him."

Saeldur _does _laugh then. "_Naneth_, I am not a child. How could you have stopped me?"

"I always thought you were loyal to Legolas above all others –"

"I am," Saeldur says firmly.

"Then how could you let it go on so long? Help me understand, Saeldur, because I _must_. How could you stand by and do _nothing_, knowing that Arahael blamed Legolas for Míron's death?"

Saeldur has asked himself that question a great many times today.

"I am not as brave as Legolas," he says simply. "I can be brave about battles, which is what people usually notice. But to look Arahael in the eye and tell him I killed his father? I could not do it. I told myself it was all right because he did not _truly _blame Legolas… He knew, after all, that Legolas had been too weak to defend himself. That was why Míron chose that day to attack. Arahael did not think Legolas killed Míron. But in the absence of anyone else to blame… If I had known, if I had had any _idea _how far Arahael would go… I would have told him. I would not knowingly have done _that _to Legolas, no matter what it cost me, not when I know –"

Saeldur stops abruptly, because what he knows about how Legolas feels about Bregolien is not something to be discussed with anybody.

Celephindeth seems to understand. She does not push him.

For a few moments they sit in a silence that is too heavy to be comfortable.

There is the sound of voices outside. Somebody knocks on the door.

Celephindeth opens it to admit Eredhion.

"Good evening, my lady." He looks at Saeldur. "Arahael wishes to speak to you."

Despite everything, Saeldur pales.

"The King says you need not speak to him if you do not wish to," Eredhion goes on. "If you do, I will escort you to meet him later tonight and stay there while you speak to him. I am sure you understand that you cannot be permitted to see him alone."

Saeldur shakes his head. "I never expected that. Will…" He hesitates. It is a great deal to ask, he knows, but this all began with trying to hold secret conversations with Arahael. Saeldur does mean to make that mistake again. "Will you ask Legolas if he will come?"

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-King**_

"A pity Galadriel cast down Dol Guldur," Thranduil mutters. "That would be a fit punishment for him."

"_Adar_, please. Calm down."

"Calm down?" Thranduil snaps, turning on his son, who looks entirely _too_ calm, given the topic under discussion. "How can you say that? When I think of what might have happened… Are you certain you are all right?"

"I am fine."

"Physically, you appear to be, but… No, do not tell me comforting lies. I know you too well to believe them."

"I am sorry, _Adar_. I promise it is not my intention to worry you more."

"Do not apologize." Thranduil pours a cup of wine for Legolas and another for himself. The vintage is not as good as usual, but the vinegary aftertaste suits his mood. "I cannot imagine… Saeldur." He shakes his head. "If I had had to trust your life to somebody, I would have chosen him over all others – including the children of Elrond and the King of Gondor and the Dwarf you insist on calling your friend."

Legolas laughs. "I do not think Gimli has the necessary talents for espionage. And as for Saeldur… what I said earlier is true. If he wanted to kill me, this was hardly the most sensible way to go about it."

"That was true before we won the war, I agree. He could have put a knife in you in the midst of a battle and nobody would have known. That is not so easy any longer. You have grown accustomed to dealing with mortals, Legolas; you forget that Elves do not often die of hunting accidents and similar mishaps."

"Saeldur killed Míron to save me," Legolas points out.

Thranduil surveys him over the rim of his wineglass.

"As it happens, Legolas, I do not think Saeldur was trying to kill you. It is quite obvious that he is appalled by the very idea. But I notice that all your arguments in his favour are that he has too much sense to have chosen such a foolish way of accomplishing his aim… not that Saeldur would not do you harm."

"Saeldur would not do me harm," Legolas says mechanically.

"Do you believe that?"

"Yes, I do, but what of it? I also believed he trusted me enough to come to me if the situation with Arahael became dangerous, and I was wrong about that."

"He was frightened, I think, of your disappointment."

"Or he thinks I plotted to kill Candnaur and was afraid I would turn on him."

"Legolas, that is absurd."

"He is not wrong. I did kill him."

"Legolas." Thranduil puts down his cup and leans forward to lay a hand on his son's shoulder. "You know you are not to blame for Candnaur's death."

"I have no idea what I know anymore, my king."

"Perhaps I expect too much of you by asking you to speak in court. It cannot have been easy, and being forced to discuss it everyday… Legolas, if it is too difficult, you need not do it. You have endured enough. Your friends will be able to tell us the rest."

Legolas shakes his head. "I must do this. This came about because of too much secrecy. I want no more of it."

Thranduil is unconvinced, but before he can ask further questions, they are interrupted by Eredhion, who casts an anxious glance at Legolas, but addresses Thranduil.

"I spoke to Saeldur, my king. He is willing to see Arahael, but he asks that Legolas go with him."

"No," Thranduil says instinctively.

"I can do it, my king," says Legolas.

"Legolas, you are not yourself. It will not be easy."

"I know it will not. But it is my responsibility. If Arahael wishes to speak to Saeldur of his father's death, then, as his commanding officer, it is my duty to be there if Saeldur wishes."

"I do not think anybody would blame you if you refused that duty this once."

"I do not want to refuse. My king, I know it will be difficult. But Míron was killed to save my life. I owe Saeldur this much."

Thranduil glances at Eredhion. "Take Voronwë with you, and if there is any threat to Legolas, you have my full sanction to take whatever action is necessary. And ensure that neither Arahael nor Saeldur has any weapons."

"Saeldur will not have any," replies Eredhion. "He swore…" He pauses, with a quick look at Legolas, and goes on, "He swore he would not touch one again until Legolas was willing to trust him and as far as I know he has kept his word. I will make certain of Arahael."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

Saeldur stumbles a little as he hurries after Voronwë. He has no idea where he is to meet Arahael. He doubts they will be allowed to meet in a clearing in the forest – partly, of course, because of the risk of escape, particularly after what happened with that miserable little creature Estel thrust on them years ago, but also because there is no telling how the forest will react when Arahael inevitably says something derogatory about the trees' beloved Elf-prince.

"Will Legolas be there?" he asks, as they skirt the archery ranges, vacant today, and go towards the stronghold.

"He will," says Voronwë. "The King is not entirely pleased about it, but Legolas insisted." He stops short, and turns to glare at Saeldur. "I warn you, if this is something you and Arahael have planned – if you hope for a moment to take advantage of the situation and attack Legolas –"

"With what?" Saeldur holds out empty hands.

Voronwë shakes his head and starts walking again.

"To think that I have to worry about you of all Elves," he mutters.

"I was not trying to –"

"Yes, yes, I know," Voronwë interrupts, waving an impatient hand. "After spending uncounted years pretending to plot against Legolas in order to be informed of Arahael's plans, you neglected to read the part of his letter that informed you of his plans."

"Do you think I am lying about that?"

"I do not, actually. I am quite certain you are telling the truth, and that is worse. You blame Legolas for Candnaur's death –"

"I do not!"

"Then why is any mention of it enough to send you into a blind fury? Why did it make you so angry that you did not read the information that was, according to you, the sole reason for maintaining a correspondence with Arahael? And now this stupid thing…" Voronwë turns sharply into the corridor that leads to the council chambers. "Whatever Arahael wants to waste all our time with now."

He stops in front of the door to the room that is normally used by the War Council, knocks, and enters without waiting for a response.

Everyone else is there already. For a moment Saeldur wonders if Legolas arranged it that way to avoid speaking to Saeldur alone, but he dismisses that thought. Legolas is not one to shy away from confrontation, and he has not refused to speak to Saeldur so far.

Legolas is sitting at the head of the table. Arahael has been placed in a chair halfway down it. Voronwë indicates that Saeldur should take the chair opposite him before he goes to stand with Eredhion near the door. Another guard is between Arahael and Legolas, hand on his sword.

Saeldur sits, not daring to look at Legolas.

"You killed my father," Arahael says, voice rough.

"I am sorry."

"You are not sorry!" Arahael snaps, glaring at Saeldur. "You said as much in court."

"I am not sorry I did it, in the circumstances," Saeldur says. "But I am sorry it was necessary. I am sorry your father chose to attack at a time when Legolas was too weak to defend himself. If Legolas had been able to disarm Lord Míron, in all likelihood he would only have been sent to Aman, as Melda was. I am sorry you had to know the grief of losing him. I am sorry I did not tell you the truth. You deserved to know."

"Why did you not tell me?" Arahael glares at Legolas. "Were you _asked_ not to?"

"No," Saeldur says firmly. "Legolas offered to help me – even to tell you himself, if that would make it easier. I could not face the idea of you knowing –"

"Because you knew it was senseless to kill my father in defence of an Elf who has never deserved your loyalty –"

"Because I did not have the courage to let anyone else know. I am sorry about that, not least because you seemed to think that was a reason to release Bregolien and encourage him to torture Legolas – as though he needed any encouragement there –"

"Legolas killed your brother and you would still defend him!"

"Arahael, what do you want?"

"I want to understand!" Arahael snaps, shifting as though to get to his feet. Instantly, the guard near him has his sword out. Arahael glares at him and settles down, going on more calmly. "Saeldur, I thought you were my friend."

"So I was, until your treason forced me to choose a side." Saeldur hesitates over his next words, trying to find the right way to put them. "Arahael, I understand your anger, and I am at least partly to blame for your father's death. If I had come forward earlier, if I had told Legolas what I knew, the matter would have been dealt with before it became necessary to kill your father."

"If you had not thought Legolas' life more valuable than his…" Arahael mutters.

"Perhaps, but I will not apologize for that. I swore loyalty to Legolas long ago and I meant it. I would not have promised to defend him if I had not been utterly certain that I would be willing to do so against _any _threat."

"If you truly think so, why _did _you accuse Legolas of deliberately having Candnaur killed?" Saeldur flushes. Before he can answer, Arahael goes on, "It is because you know as well as I do that he _failed _that day – and has done on many others. Did you not say so to me? Yet you still insist on defending Legolas. If that is not blindness, what is?"

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to know why my father died, and now I do." Arahael looks from Saeldur to Legolas. "And Legolas continues to be the cause of his death."

"You cannot blame Legolas for –"

"Let it be, Saeldur," Legolas cuts in quietly. "Arahael is in possession of the facts now, and is at liberty to make his own judgements."

Arahael's glittering eyes are on Legolas. "I will have my vengeance," he promises. "_This _fool," he indicates Saeldur, "may have sworn an oath not to touch a weapon until it pleases you to give him one, but I made no such promises."

Eredhion and Voronwë come forward to flank Legolas.

"Try," Eredhion says coldly. "You will find that it is not nearly as easy as you think."

"Arahael," Legolas says coolly, "it is understandable to be angry about your father's death. But you will find that a quest for vengeance does more harm to you than to anybody else. For your own sake, you should give it up."

"I have nothing more to say."

The guard nudges Arahael to his feet and shepherds him around the far side of the table, so that he cannot get near Legolas on his way to the door.

Saeldur glances at Legolas as the door shuts. He does not seem to be in the most receptive of moods but Saeldur _must _try. At any rate, he cannot let Arahael's assertions go uncontested.

"What he said about Candnaur," Saeldur begins carefully.

"There is no need to explain," Legolas says.

Eredhion and Voronwë exchange a glance and withdraw to the corner of the room, allowing them at least the illusion of privacy.

"Legolas, I do not think you killed Candnaur – that is – you _did_ kill him – in the literal sense – but I asked you to do it – it was not – and of course better dead than in Dol Guldur." He pauses and considers everything he has said, and then adds, "I do not mean to imply that you missed."

Legolas is looking at him as though he is insane. Saeldur must admit that he was not very cogent.

"I do not hold you responsible," he says.

Legolas shrugs. "You need not apologize to me if you do. As you just pointed out, in the literal sense, I killed him. And I was in command."

"Legolas, please, what Arahael said –"

"That you told him I failed you?" There is an edge of anger in Legolas' voice that was not there before. Saeldur is glad of it. It is better than the tight control Legolas has been maintaining. "I know you think I failed you, and I do not say you are wrong. I will confess, I _had _hoped you had forgiven me for Candnaur's death after all these years. But if you cannot… I understand. Thank you… for saving my life when Míron would have taken it."

"Legolas, _please_, do not thank me for that."

Legolas pushes the chair back and gets to his feet.

"Just tell me what I can do to make this right," Saeldur all but pleads.

Legolas leaves the room without answering.

"Saeldur," Eredhion says, and for the first time since Rochendilwen received Bregolien's letter there is something like sympathy in his voice. "I do not think there is anything you can do other than give Legolas time."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-King**_

Rochendilwen, Aeroniel and Colfind are waiting in Legolas' study, gathered around the small table where, in the past, they spread maps and pored over duty rosters. They all have half-empty cups of wine. Colfind fills another and pushes it across the table to him.

"I got it from Galion. It is not watered down."

Legolas laughs unwillingly. "It is going to be a long night." He sits, looking at the stack of documents before Rochendilwen with apprehension. "Do I want to know what those are?"

"Letters," she says. "Do not worry. I will not burden you with these. The arches have been giving me all their notes and correspondence from Saeldur for the past…" She shuffles the papers. "The past hundred and fifty years, at least. We have been going through them."

"What in all of Arda for?" Legolas asks, astonished.

"They fear they may inadvertently have done something to put you in danger."

Legolas groans. He knows as well as Rochendilwen does that going through reams of correspondence will prove nothing. How many battles have he and Saeldur been in together? Has Saeldur ever tried to put him in danger? Who can ever know?

Legolas will not believe that – or think about it. Madness lies that way.

Saeldur killed Míron to save him, after all, and if his courage was not equal to admitting it to Míron's son, Legolas cannot blame him. And yet he has never heard Saeldur sound as vicious as he did that morning in Ithilien when he accused Legolas of allowing Candnaur to be taken alive – or possibly of wanting him dead.

If Saeldur believes that…

Legolas returns his attention to Rochendilwen. "I do not think there is anything to worry about."

"Nor do I," she agrees. "But you will have to speak with the archers – oh, not today. It can wait until everything is settled. Speak to them before we return to Ithilien. That will be enough. In the meantime –"

Rochendilwen stops speaking abruptly. All four young Elves get to their feet. Their already-keen warrior senses are heightened enough with the tension that the hesitant footsteps coming down the corridor bring them to full battle readiness. Colfind pads silently to the door, unsheathing one of his knives on the way.

He flings it open to reveal Lady Celephindeth, her hand raised to knock.

"Legolas." She looks around. Aeroniel is holding her bow, and Rochendilwen's hand is at the knife in her belt. "I am sorry. Are you… busy? I had hoped to speak to you in private."

Quick glances from Aeroniel and Rochendilwen assure Legolas that they will not leave if he does not want it.

Legolas shakes his head. "Go. The rest of the business can wait. Tell the archers I will speak to them, but not tonight."

Sheathing their weapons, Aeroniel and Colfind leave. Rochendilwen lingers long enough to tell Legolas to send for one of them later if necessary before she follows.

"My lady," says Legolas, resuming his seat. "Please sit."

"Do not worry." Celephindeth takes the chair beside his. "I am not here to intercede on Saeldur's behaf."

"Saeldur did not send you?"

She responds with a short laugh. "He does not know I am here. He would not be pleased if he did. I came to see how you were." She makes a movement as though about to take his hand, but thinks better of it. "You have done a great deal to ensure that Saeldur has had a fair trial – and that he was prepared for it."

"It was my duty."

"Legolas, I know you must be angry and disappointed. I would have been, in your place. Even now… Saeldur is my son, and I will do what I can to help him, but I am also… He risked your _life _on his mistaken belief that he could contain a situation that was out of his hands. I _am _angry with him. I never thought he could do such a thing."

Legolas stares at his hands.

Saeldur claimed – somewhat inaccurately – that Legolas' hands have never shaken on the bow. They are certainly shaking now.

Celephindeth does reach out, this time, covering his fingers with hers.

"I cannot imagine what it must be like to wonder whether your dearest friend has spent uncounted years plotting your death… to have a doubt that you will not acknowledge and cannot silence."

Legolas can only stare at her.

"That is why I am here," she goes on. "To tell you that _that_, at least, is not true."

"You cannot know that," Legolas manages.

"I _do _know it. Saeldur is my son. I know what is in his mind. He might do stupid things, but he would _never _deliberately harm you. Sometimes it frustrated me, even angered me, I admit, that he was so much closer to you than to his own brother, but I am grateful for it now. It is why I can tell you, _knowing _it for the truth, that treason against you is the one crime Saeldur would never knowingly commit."

"But if he believes that I deliberately _allowed _Candnaur to –"

Legolas stops short, remembering that he is speaking to Celephindeth. She remains calm, however.

"Saeldur believes nothing of the kind. I do not understand why he should say it… I think something else is troubling him. If he did not tell you, he is unlikely to tell me. I am not trying to lessen his punishment. He has still not learned to govern his temper, and he has an exalted opinion of his own cleverness. If he has not been able to overcome these faults in all this time, he must take the consequences. I am telling you these things only for your own peace of mind, Legolas. _You _should know that Saeldur would not knowingly let harm come to you."

"Thank you, my lady," Legolas says quietly.

She squeezes his hand once and gets to her feet. "Try to rest, Legolas. This is not going to be easy."

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **I _am _sorry this is so late. I had an exam, and then a bunch of work stuff. But now I'm relatively free so I expect to be able to post the next chapter sometime next week.

Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Part X**

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-king: Present**_

Before taking his place, Saeldur glances at Legolas. His posture betrays what his face does not. He is sitting bolt upright in his chair, fingers clenched around the papers in front of him with a white-knuckled grip that means he can barely keep his hands from shaking. Elrohir is whispering to him, clearly trying to provoke a laugh and failing utterly.

Saeldur drops into his chair.

Arahael is already seated, his face turned from Saeldur's. Saeldur wishes he could care about Arahael's anger, because that would at least mean that there was some _point _to keeping his secret all these years. But all he can think about is how _stupid _it is that he was so terrified of admitting the truth that he let this nightmare happen… and now it seems so unimportant beside everything else.

He suspects his mother went to speak to Legolas last night. She did not admit it, but she was gone for some time and refused to tell him where. Saeldur cannot think of anything else she was likely to have been doing. He only hopes she did not make an unnecessary attempt to persuade Legolas to intercede with the King on his behalf.

Ellaurë summons Legolas. Saeldur tries to meet his eyes as he takes his place.

Legolas will not look at him.

Saeldur _wishes _he could believe it is anger, but he knows better. He knows Legolas' expression of calm control, and he also knows what it masks. Legolas is terrified he will break down if he allows his guard to drop for a single moment.

"Go on, Legolas," Ellaurë says. "What happened?"

* * *

_**Ithilien, Near the Elven Settlement: Past**_

Legolas twisted his hands behind him, trying to find the sharp edge that had caught at his fingertips earlier. After a moment, his searching fingertips brushed the jagged protrusion of broken metal.

With a quick glance at the trapdoor to ensure that Bregolien was not returning, he managed to press himself back and push his wrists down until the rope holding them was over the sharpest place. It put pressure on his arms, and he would have to be careful to prevent Bregolien from realizing what he was doing.

Legolas scraped the rope against the edge, going back and forth as quickly as he could in his awkward position until the sound of footsteps told him Bregolien was returning.

He stilled.

Bregolien dropped through the hole and pulled the trapdoor almost shut. He left the barest gap to allow a sliver of light. Legolas doubted it would be visible from the outside.

"Your friends are still looking for you, but they are getting farther from us. Fortunately, in this part of the forest, the trees are not as accustomed to speaking to Elves as those in Eryn Lasgalen. They are not able to guide your friends nearly with nearly as much accuracy." Bregolien laughed. "Nobody is going to save you this time."

Carefully, Legolas rubbed the rope against the metal. It was almost completely dark. If he were careful and made no noise, he ought to be able to do it undetected.

Bregolien came closer. Legolas heard the thump as he dropped to the ground.

"While we are waiting for Arahael, perhaps we can talk." He used his knife to force Legolas' head up. His eyes glittered like the Orcs' eyes had in Moria. "I know you think you are not going to tell me who killed Míron, but I promise you that you are. In the meantime, though, I will tell you what I _know_ happened – what Arahael too would know if he were less of a fool."

"If you _know_," Legolas spat, "what is the point of this?"

Bregolien shrugged. "Do you think I care who killed a Sindarin lord who always made it obvious that he looked down on me? I wanted _you_, Legolas. Now I have you. That is all that matters to me. Arahael wants to hear the name of his father's murderer from you. He would not believe me if I told him." He shoved Legolas back violently. The metal bit into his arm. "If you or your father had killed Míron, it would have been a matter of public record. Thranduil is foolish that way. If it had been your guards… that would have needed no secrecy either." The knife poked at Legolas' jaw. "Am I right so far?"

Legolas ignored the question.

"Very well, say nothing. Let me go on. Any of your friends would have killed to defend you, but Arahael told me you were injured as well – by an arrow, he heard."

Legolas found the sharp edge again. He had barely managed to fray a few threads. He hoped Arahael was a long time on the road.

"I assume that means the first arrow went wide and hit you," Bregolien went on. Legolas felt the tip of the knife tremble as his companion laughed. "How embarrassing. One of the Elven-king's finest archers missing a mark that could not have been more than a few yards away. And, since this all happened inside the royal quarters, with no wind and good enough light. What would Thorontur say to that?"

Legolas did not react. Bregolien did not seem to expect a reaction. He continued speaking.

"That would sound very unlikely to most. But _I_ remember your training – as Arahael should, since he trained with you. Saeldur never could keep his bow steady when the pressure was great."

The knife was removed.

"Tell me I am wrong," Bregolien challenged.

"You know nothing," Legolas snapped.

"As you please. If you will not admit it now, you will admit it later." The knife returned, this time tapping Legolas' cheek. "We will have to keep a souvenir for your father, Legolas. Something for him to remember you by, since he will not see you alive again. Last time I sent him your cloak and your bow… I would not want him to think I have grown remiss."

Legolas ignored him.

"Why are you determined to suffer more than you must? And to protect Saeldur? Why protect the Elf who sent you here to _me_?"

"You lie."

"Are you so certain of that, Elfling? Arahael told Saeldur I was coming. I was against it, but Arahael insisted Saeldur would give you to me. I see he was right. Do you not see how stupid it is, Legolas? All this misery, and for what? Because Candnaur would not stay in the stronghold and be safe."

"Why do you care?"

"I do not care at all. But I will be honest with you. I did think _Saeldur_ cared – cared for you, that is, too much to hold Candnaur's death against you. Even I do not imagine you would have done it if there had been the smallest possibility of saving him. And of course it is laughable that you would have missed a stationary target in broad daylight."

Legolas let his head fall back against the wall. He was tired – tired of talking to Bregolien, tired of trying not to think about his argument with Saeldur – had it only been that morning? It felt like an Age in the past.

Bregolien's fist drove into his gut, hard.

"I want your attention," Bregolien said softly, "when I am speaking to you."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-king: Present**_

Legolas hesitates and glances at his father. "My king, there is no need to… we were there for a few hours. It is pointless to describe it all."

Saeldur half expected this, but he is still alarmed. For Legolas to ask to be excused from something he considers his duty…

Thranduil responds with a single nod, his eyes reflecting his concern.

"Legolas," Ellaurë says, guiding him away with a hand on his arm, "perhaps you should sit down. This has been enough. I will read the letters from the King of Gondor and the Lord of the Glittering Caves, and, if you are ready, you can speak to us in the afternoon. There is no need for details that you would rather not relive."

"Thank you, my lady."

Saeldur watches Legolas go back to his place. His shoulders are stiff, and he practically collapses into his chair. Saeldur can only imagine what Bregolien told him in the darkness of the Orc cellar. There are few subjects that can upset Legolas this much.

Bregolien, unfortunately, would have known exactly what to say.

Elladan leans in to whisper something to Legolas, but Saeldur's attention is drawn from them by Ellaurë, who is opening Aragorn's letter once more.

* * *

_**Gondor, the Road from Minas Tirith to Ithilien: Past**_

Aragorn was aware of his guards telling him to slow down while they contained the threat. He had no intention of slowing down. He had never been one to cower behind guards, and he did not intend to start now.

Besides, Arahael, from all Aragorn had seen of him, was barely a threat. Although for official purposes he was a warrior – and a member of Thranduil's Southern Guard, no less – he had always spent more time intriguing in the stronghold than defending the border.

Baralin was level with him, sword unsheathed in his hand.

Before them, Arahael was unmoving on his horse.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked, as soon as they were within earshot. "I understand that Men have uncivilized ways of greeting newcomers to their lands, but, Baralin, I expected better of –"

"What are you doing here?" Baralin snarled.

"You wish to dispense with common politeness, I see. I wanted to see what Mannish kingdoms were like. I have a great deal of curiosity about the culture of Men."

"In the last four hundred years you have gone no further than a day's ride from the stronghold. You have never even been to Dale!"

"Dale is not nearly as enticing as the greatest city of Men."

"I do not know why you are here," said Aragorn, feeling that he ought to intervene before Arahael was allowed to turn the conversation into a debate on the relative merits of Dale and Minas Tirith – and before Baralin lost his temper. "But I have been told that you are plotting against the life of your prince."

"You have been _told_? I do not question your right to ask the purpose of my visit to your kingdom, though I think I might justly criticize your manner. What business of yours is my relationship with my _prince_?"

"If you are attempting murder in my realm, particularly a murder that is likely to sour relations between Gondor and Eryn Lasgalen permanently, it is my duty to –"

"It is _my _business," said a soft voice.

Aragorn stifled a groan. He _had _hoped to avoid this. Arwen had an unfortunate habit of thinking of Legolas as the Elfling she once bounced on her knee, and she could get on remarkably well without weapons or profanity.

"If you mean harm to Legolas in the country of which Arwen Undómiel is Queen, do not expect to go unchallenged," Arwen went on, dismounting in an easy leap.

"You may be Queen of Men, but you have no authority over me," Arahael snarled.

"I am Queen of Gondor, and I assured the Elven-king that no harm would come to his son in my realm. I think he would say I have _his _authority. But I do not intend to stand here arguing with you about what right I have to safeguard one of my dearest friends. You are outnumbered, Arahael. Willingly or unwillingly, you are coming with us."

"You are coming!" Baralin spat, levelling his sword at Arahael. "You are coming with us to Ithilien, and then you are coming with us to Eryn Lasgalen, and if Prince Legolas does not return unharmed you will answer for it!"

"Take his weapons," Aragorn told the guards with them.

With the tip of Baralin's sword an inch from his neck, with Arwen's grey-eyed gaze holding his with an implacability that not even her grandmother could have matched, Arahael stood quietly while the Men took his sword, patted him down, and removed the knives in his sleeve, belt and boot.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-king: Present**_

_And so we made all possible speed to the Elven settlement. I will say for Lord Arahael that he made no difficulties – I expect he realized that there was no chance of escape._

_If he had received any communication from Bregolien since leaving the Woodland Realm, he did not have it with him. Nor did he tell us where he had been or how he had arrived in Gondor. Perhaps he thought his best hope was in silence. Or perhaps he was trying to waste our time to prevent our reaching Legolas._

Ellaurë stops reading to glance at Arahael.

"I will not ask you to comment on what your true motivation was. But as a courtesy to the King of Gondor, I will require the names of anyone in his realm who aided you, so that we may inform him."

"Do you think I needed help from Men?"

"Bregolien intended to take Legolas to Minas Tirith. Where in Minas Tirith? You must have had a location in mind. Or did you think you could simply find a quiet corner and remain undetected?"

"I saw Minas Tirith. It is full of people. I expect there are quiet corners where we could have done anything we wanted to Legolas and nobody would have heard him scream – but, no, that was not my intention," Arahael says hastily, making a pretence of being unaffected by the furious expression on Thranduil's face. "Saeldur mentioned in an earlier letter that he had noticed that several of the houses in Minas Tirith appeared unoccupied."

"So you intended to claim one for… this?"

Arahael shrugs. Saeldur realizes, as he watches him, that Arahael has stopped caring about everything: he has brooded over his father's death and his hatred for Legolas until nothing else matters.

"I thought so, at first, but when I saw the city – how closely packed the houses were – I realized that it would be difficult for me to find one sufficiently secluded without a little preparation. I did not have time for that. I turned back without entering the city, intending to intercept Bregolien before he reached Minas Tirith. I expected that we would find another haven. Then I received his message."

"Aragorn says you had no message."

"I destroyed it."

Ellaurë studies him a moment, and then turns to the watching Elves. "Aeroniel, if you would be so kind."

Aeroniel comes forward quietly, calmer than Saeldur has any hope of being – even calmer, outwardly, than Legolas, whose gaze is on the table.

"When did the party from Minas Tirith arrive?" Ellaurë asks.

Aeroniel considers. "I believe it was the early afternoon – not all of them together. Baralin, Elessar and Lady Undómiel arrived first, with Arahael. I believe they had outpaced their guard, and Gimli was naturally constrained by the pace of the rider accompanying him."

"Were you surprised to see Arahael?"

"I was. I had read his letter to Saeldur several times, as you can imagine, searching for any information that might prove useful. Nothing had led me to believe that Arahael himself intended to be present."

"What happened then?"

"There were two cottages empty. We confined Arahael in one of them. Colfind and I tried to speak to him. Arahael insisted that he had simply come to see Saeldur and lost his way, and demanded to be taken to Saeldur."

"Did you show him the letter?"

"We did."

* * *

_**Ithilien, the Elven Settlement: Past**_

"And what does this prove?" Arahael said, staring at the sheets Colfind held just out of his reach. "You have no evidence that I wrote this letter."

"Do we not?" Aeroniel stood so that she blocked Arahael's path to the window, while Colfind was between him and the door. "If we took the letter back to Eryn Lasgalen, would nobody recognize it as your handwriting?"

"It is a good forgery."

"You deny that you wrote this letter?"

"Of course I deny it. I did not write the letter. I have not written to Saeldur for several weeks."

"Why would anybody want to forge a letter from you, claiming to have released Bregolien? What could anyone gain by such a thing?"

"I could answer that, but I doubt you will be receptive."

"Try us," snapped Colfind.

"Very well. Someone clearly wants to discredit me… and Saeldur, since he was chosen to be the recipient of what you describe as treasonous correspondence. What better way than to make it seem as though we have been plotting that treason together?"

"Granting that you and Saeldur have an enemy who wishes to see you both face the King's anger, how do you explain the fact that nobody has seen Legolas for over a day?"

"Very easily. It would be difficult for anyone to produce Bregolien, confined as he is in Eryn Lasgalen. Someone forging the letter would have realized that, and known exposure was waiting. But if Legolas returns after having been missing for a few days and claims he was attacked by Bregolien – who has since escaped – well, who would doubt our beloved warrior-prince?"

"You will forgive me, Arahael," Aeroniel says. "I am not sure I heard you correctly. Are you suggesting that _Legolas _forged this letter from you to Saeldur, and then disappeared for over a day, knowing that we would all worry about him – knowing that I was bound to write to his father, to the King and Queen of Gondor, and to the sons of Elrond, all of whom would know no peace of mind while he was in danger?"

"That is a more reasonable explanation than supposing that one of the Elven-king's subjects conspired with the most trusted of Legolas' captains and released the most dangerous criminal in the history of the Woodland Realm in order to have Legolas murdered."

"Very well, and how do you explain Lady Éowyn's testimony? She saw Bregolien."

"I will not excuse the slayer of the Witch-king of lying. She saw an Elf. How would she know if it was Bregolien or another? Legolas may have asked somebody to help him."

"You credit Legolas with an elaborate plan. Why exactly would he do this?"

"Is it not obvious? He feels threatened by Saeldur, as he felt threatened by Candnaur. This is an excellent way for him to discredit Saeldur in the eyes of his father's people – and of course, Legolas and I have never been friends."

"What happens to this complicated scheme Legolas has concocted when the Elven-king finds Bregolien safe in his cell?"

"Perhaps he is not safe in his cell. Perhaps Legolas is conspiring with someone in Eryn Lasgalen, as you allege Saeldur conspired with me."

Aeroniel, no longer certain that she could keep her temper, got to her feet and left the cottage.

She found Aragorn, Gimli and Arwen waiting outside.

"What does he say?" Arwen asked anxiously.

Aeroniel scoffed. "He says Legolas released Bregolien himself, forged the letter, and is now hiding as part of a plan to have Saeldur branded a traitor."

Aragorn's eyes narrowed. "By your leave, Aeroniel, may I speak to Saeldur – in private?"

"In private but with me," qualified Gimli, biting on the stem of the pipe that he kept unlit in Ithilien, in deference to Elven sensibilities. "I want to speak to Saeldur. I have several things I want to ask Saeldur."

"Of course, if you wish," said Aeroniel. "But I do not think he will tell you more than he has told us."

"Let us try."

As Aragorn and Gimli stalked away, Arwen looked at the cottage that held Arahael.

"He cannot believe that such a ridiculous story will help deflect the blame from himself," Arwen said. "He is trying to buy time."

"Rochendilwen has gone after Legolas already, with archers – and Eredhion and Voronwë – and your brothers. I expect you are right, but unless Arahael is willing to give us a location, there is nothing more we can do."

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **I don't know if I'll be able to update next week… possibly not, but I'll try to by the week after. Once again it's a slightly longer chapter... this fic seems to need them!

This is sort of a less intense chapter, in some ways.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Part XI**

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-king: Present**_

"I think we can return to King Elessar's letter," says Ellaurë. "Unless anyone has any questions for Aeroniel."

"I have a question," says Lord Norgalad.

Saeldur hears Aeroniel sigh as she turns to him. "Yes, my lord."

"When Arahael suggested to you that Legolas had forged the letter, did you get the impression that he was speaking the truth?"

There is an immediate hush as horrified eyes turn to Norgalad. Thranduil looks ready to murder, and Arbellason is actually rising from his seat as though he intends to haul Norgalad bodily from the room.

"I beg your pardon, my lord," says Aeroniel. "Are you asking me if I _believed _that Legolas had forged the letter?"

"Of course not!" Norgalad looks around the room as though only just realizing the sensation he had made. "I know I am not popular, but I am astonished you thought I was accusing Legolas of crimes at a time like this. Sit down, Arbellason, there is no need to get excited. Perhaps I phrased the question badly, Aeroniel. I was asking whether, in your view, Arahael believed what he was saying."

"Oh… no, how could he?" asked Aeroniel. "He _did _write the letter. He has admitted as much himself."

"Yes, I see your point. I… well, I will confess I find it disturbing to believe that there have been so many among us who would contemplate such evil acts. I have seen the sack of Doriath, and the destruction of Menegroth. I have no desire to see either repeated here."

"I believe we all find that disturbing," said Ellaurë. "Perhaps we must attribute it to the shadow cast by Dol Guldur. Thank you, Aeroniel." As Aeroniel returned to her seat, she shook out the letter again. "I will continue King Elessar's letter."

* * *

_**Ithilien, the Elven Settlement: Past**_

Aragorn did not know if he could control Gimli. He did not know if he _wanted _to. He was barely able to hold back his anger as he burst into the room, particularly when Saeldur, seated at the small table, only glared at him.

"What do _you _want?"

"I want you to tell me you have been stupid and not treasonous," snapped Aragorn. "Because otherwise I made a grave error of judgement that may cost more than I can bear."

Gimli laid his axe on the table and heaved himself into the chair opposite Saeldur.

"Sit down, laddie," he told Aragorn. "This will take time. I am as angry as you are, but we might as well be comfortable. We should have asked Aeroniel for some good ale – or wine, since the Elves have an unaccountable preference for it. And meanwhile we can think about how to loosen this Elf's tongue."

"I do not answer to you," Saeldur said. "_Either_ of you."

"You sound like Arahael," Aragorn observed. The fire in Saeldur's eyes in response to that would have frightened anyone else. Aragorn only shrugged. He had faced more frightening foes. "I must assume you have been treasonous, then."

"Why are we _talking _about this?" Gimli asked. "We should ask for wine. And permission to use my axe. I can make him answer."

"You are at least partly right," Aragorn conceded. "Arguing with Saeldur has achieved nothing. I doubt I will have more success than Aeroniel or Rochendilwen. I do not think Aeroniel will consent to the axe, but by all means ask for wine."

Gimli waited a moment to make certain Aragorn was serious, and then, with a shrug of mailed shoulders, went to the door.

"While we are waiting, Saeldur," said Aragorn, bringing his anger under control with an effort, "I am willing to listen to whatever you want to say."

"I do not want wine, and I do not want to speak to you."

"I did not intend to offer you wine. You make poor enough judgements without it. And I have no wish to be in my cups, although Gimli may please himself. I do not know what you are waiting for. At the moment, it appears Gimli and I are waiting for Eredhion and Voronwë to return with Legolas' body."

Aragorn ignored Gimli's noise of protest and kept his gaze on Saeldur, who went visibly pale.

He waited a moment for his words to sink in before he continued in the same casual tone. "My brothers joined the search yesterday. They have found nothing. Eredhion and Voronwë have found nothing. Rochendilwen has found nothing. I think we must draw the conclusion that there is nothing to find and Legoals is dead."

"Legolas is not dead," said Saeldur, voice trembling on the last word.

"You are more confident of that than I am."

"Legolas _is not dead_."

"What makes you so certain?" asked Gimli, returning to his seat with a bottle and a goblet.

"Legolas did not survive centuries of warfare to die at the hands of a traitor!"

Aragorn considered Saeldur. He had, many years previously, consented to keep Saeldur's confidence because he had believed Saeldur loyal to Legolas. He believed it still, but…

"Perhaps Gimli and I have an advantage over you in this," he said, choosing his words with care. "Both in not having sworn loyalty to Legolas in centuries long past –"

"As he is _very _fond of reminding us," Gimli muttered.

"Quite so. And in other ways. You do not truly believe Legolas is in danger – or, if you do, you think it will end well. You have seen Legoas survive enemies and injuries and peril for centuries, while Sauron's evil spread from Dol Guldur and the One Ring tried to find its way back his master. Perhaps Elves as young as you and Legolas have a tendency to think that the destruction of Sauron's power means also the destruction of all evil in Middle-earth. After all, he was the greatest evil you have ever known."

"You speak as though you faced Morgoth in the War of Wrath," Saeldur muttered. "There will always be evil in Arda marred. I know that."

"Do you _believe _it? Legolas does not, I know."

"Maybe it comes from living so long," said Gimli. "And not long enough."

"It is not entirely that," said Aragorn. "Aeroniel seems quite aware of what might happen – and so, by her account, are Rochendilwen, Eredhion and Voronwë. Eredhion and Voronwë, of course, have been specifically ordered to worry about treachery – but Rochendilwen and Aeroniel have not, and although they are older than Saeldur and Legolas, neither of them fought on the Dagorlad either."

"Go ahead and say it," Saeldur said. "I know you are thinking it."

"That the only explanation is that you are a traitor? That is not what we were thinking."

"No?" asked Gimli, startled. "It is what I was thinking."

"What _I_ am thinking," Aragorn went on, disregarding Gimli, "is that you have been too close to Arahael – too close, for too long, listening to his words for too long. After centuries of battle, after telling yourselves day after day for hundreds of years that everything you did was to preserve Middle-earth from the Enemy, it may be difficult to understand that _this _sort of evil has outlived Sauron – some brigand might waylay you if you are foolish enough to travel alone, but treachery from one close to you?"

"Arahael is not –"

"Arahael is not as close to you as Legolas is. I know that. But he is close enough to you that you have stopped thinking of him as a real danger, especially now that the War is over." Aragorn leaned forward, willing Saeldur to understand. "If we do not intervene, it is very likely that Legolas will die, if he is not dead already."

"Legolas will not die."

"We have a hope of saving him if you will help us," Aragorn persisted.

"Did Aeroniel not tell you? I am not permitted to leave this cottage."

"But you can tell us where Bregolien is likely to have taken Legolas."

"Do you think I would not if I could?" Saeldur burst. "I did not read the entirety of that accursed letter, I could not bear to – though I expect Aeroniel did. She will know what Arahael said about… his… plans. He has not spoken of this for _years_. I had no idea he still thought of it."

"He must have been planning it for some time."

"Perhaps. Perhaps I have not been as circumspect as I thought. Perhaps Arahael realized I was only trying to get information from him."

"If you truly were not trying to get Legolas killed –"

"I would defend Legolas with my life."

"Then why did you react to what Arahael said about your brother?"

"If you had known Candnaur… Perhaps _you_ would understand. You seem to understand a great deal. But there are some things… no. I cannot speak of this. Not to you."

"Do you hold Legolas responsible for his death? Is that it?"

Saeldur shook his head. "I do not know how much you know of the circumstances surrounding Candnaur's death, but… it was a dark time. A difficult time. Nobody can bear all the blame, least of all Legolas."

"You make it very difficult to believe you," Aragorn said, "if you will not explain yourself."

"I do not care if _you_ believe me. If I could do anything to help Legolas now… or to make _Legolas _believe me…"

"If Legolas survives, your part in this will grieve him more than anything else. That much is true. And since I would like to spare Legolas what grief I can, I would _like _to believe that you are, at least, innocent of deliberate wrongdoing. If you help us, perhaps Legolas will believe that as well."

"How can I help, unless I am permitted to join the search?"

"The Elven-king might have that much influence over Aeroniel. I do not. But you _can _help us. Arahael is here – we met him on the way. He will not tell us why he is in Gondor."

"Arahael is _here_?"

"His letter to you mentioned nothing about his coming. That is a point in your favour. Even if you do not know Bregolien's plans, it is likely that Arahael does. If you can get it out of him…"

Saeldur nodded quickly. "I do not know if he will tell me anything, but… I will try."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-king: Present**_

Slowly, Ellaurë folds up Aragorn's letter. "The rest of what Elessar says is of no relevance to this court. I will read what the Dwarven-lord of the Glittering Caves has written, but before that, I would like to call Saeldur forward."

Saeldur is not surprised; he was expecting this. Ellaurë probably wants to see how far his account will agree with Gimli's.

He goes forward, at ease in the knowledge that, at least, there is nothing he is going to say now that Legolas does not already know, nothing that is going to make the trial any more difficult for him than it already is.

But Ellaurë does not immediately ask for his account of his conversation with Arahael.

"King Elessar appears to think you had not fully realized the seriousness of the situation until he spoke to you. Is that true? If it is, it seems at odds with your claim that you were only part of Arahael's plans so that you could keep Legolas safe from them."

"I will not pretend to have as much clarity of thought as the King of Gondor, my lady," Saeldur says. "And it would be inaccurate to say that I did not believe Legolas was in danger. But… it is true that, until I spoke to Aragorn, I was certain Legolas would return alive."

"Even though you knew Bregolien was free?"

"My lady, I know better than anyone how much more formidable a warrior Legolas is now than he was when Bregolien… murdered the queen." Saeldur risks a glance at Legolas, who appears composed. "A stray arrow might kill anyone, but in direct combat – there are very few Elves still in Middle-earth who could best Legolas. But it was not only that. I cannot entirely explain it … I have been Legolas' second for centuries. I have followed him, argued with him, _believed _in him – and I – I – I simply did not think he could come to real harm, after… everything. It was all meant to _end _when the Enemy was overthrown."

"You always were stupid," Arahael mutters. "Listen to you, now, as though it was not pure chance that Legolas survived Bregolien."

"Arahael," says Ellaurë, "in your own interest, please be silent. You will be given a chance to speak, I assure you. Saeldur, please tell us what happened."

Saeldur draws a deep breath. "I told Aragorn I would speak to Arahael, but I had no idea what I could say to persuade him to help – or to get _any_ information from him. From everything he had _not _put in the letter, it was clear that Arahael did not trust me entirely –"

"And I was right not to trust you," says Aragael in disgust.

"Arahael," says the King, his patience clearly at an end, "be _silent _or you will be removed from the room. Saeldur, go on."

"Gimli thought I should continue the charade with Arahael and see if he would tell me anything. Aragorn thought it would do no good. But I had no other plan, and nobody could think of one."

* * *

_**Ithilien, the Elven Settlement: Past**_

Aeroniel pulled Saeldur aside before he could go to the cottage.

"More than anything," she said, too softly to be heard even by Arwen and Éowyn, who were standing a few feet away, "I want to believe that you have not betrayed Legolas. For _everybody's_ sake, not only for his… if you have been conspiring with Arahael to have Legolas killed, anything might be a lie."

"I do not know about _anything _being a lie," Saeldur replied, just as quietly. "But I would never willingly let Legolas come to harm. If you will let me go after him…"

"You know I cannot do that. You would say the same if you were in my place."

"I do not know if Arahael will tell me anything… or if he will even believe me. But I will try."

Aeroniel stepped back. Saeldur knocked on the cottage door and went in without waiting for an answer.

"Saeldur!" Arahael jumped to his feet, his expression caught between relief and anxiety. "Is anyone listening?" He shook his head. "No, we cannot be certain of that. They must be standing at the door. Come here." He caught Saeldur by the arm to pull him into the middle of the room, and dropped his voice. The cottage was small; a determined eavesdropper would still hear, but Saeldur did not bother pointing that out. "The letter. Aeroniel and Colfind said they had the letter."

"Yes… they found it," Saeldur replied. "They know everything."

"You should have burnt it… I have always told you there is no point keeping correspondence." Then he sighed. "It does not matter now. It is done. At last. We have avenged my father and your brother."

It took a moment for Saeldur to find his voice. "Arahael… what you said about Candnaur…"

Arahael laid a hand on Saeldur's shoulder. "Bregolien told me that. I had to tell you – you deserved to know, and I knew that would show you how important it was to finish the task my father began – but I also knew it would cause you grief. I am sorry."

"Bregolien may have lied."

"What if he did?" Arahael asked. "It does not restore Candnaur to life."

"No, it does not. But… do you know where he is? Bregolien? I… I would like to speak to him myself."

"Speak to Bregolien? Why?"

"If he saw my brother in Dol Guldur… I… I want to hear of it from him."

"How will you go? If Aeroniel _has_ read the letter, she will not let you leave."

"I can find a way out."

"And through the trees loyal to their beloved Elf? They were trying to trip my horse all the way here. No. It is better to wait. We _will_ have to go and speak to Thranduil – there is no escaping that. I expect he will exile us, and then you will have as much leisure as you wish to talk matters over with Bregolien."

"He will be long gone by then. If he escapes into the wilds – or into the East – we will never find him. Please, Arahael. I must know what happened to my brother."

"Yes," Arahael said slowly. "Yes, I do see that."

He turned away for a moment, head bowed. Saeldur watched him, trying not to let his anxiety show on his face.

Arahael turned back.

"Legolas is dead, you know."

Saeldur could not keep from flinching at that.

"Do you think I am stupid?" Arahael went on. "You are blind, Saeldur, and you always have been. Despite knowing everything – despite knowing that Legolas' weakness cost your brother's life, and possibly even his _fëa_ – you would still defend him."

"Your father said Legolas' death was necessary to defeat the Enemy – and he was wrong. In any case it no longer matters. Dol Guldur has fallen. What do you gain by killing Legolas now?"

"Justice."

"This is not justice, Arahael. Legolas has done nothing to harm you – or anybody –"

"Would my father agree? Would Candnaur? I did not tell you everything Bregolien told me about Candnaur. He said he had been utterly transformed – he was unrecognizable –"

"Enough!" Saeldur snapped. "Even if that is true…" He shook his head. "Legolas was doing the best he could under the circumstances. None of us knew what the outcome would be."

"Legolas was in command and therefore responsible for what happened."

Saeldur shook his head. "I know what you are trying to do. It will not work, Arahael. You are right. I _would _still defend Legolas. I cannot know that he is in danger and stand by doing nothing. Tell me where he is. Please."

"Why would I do that?"

"For the sake of mercy, if nothing else. You do not know what Bregolien is, or what he is capable of doing. And to _Legolas_… Nobody should be condemned to that. Please, Arahael. For Legolas' sake I am not too proud to beg. _Please _tell me where he is."

"There is nothing you can give me that I want. It is too late, Saeldur. Legolas is dead."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-king: Present**_

The silence hangs heavy as Saeldur stops speaking.

He can remember how he felt – the dawning horror of the realization that Legolas might _die_, and die with hard words between them – die believing Saeldur blamed him for Candnaur –

"Nothing can be worse," he says into the stillness. "Whatever you do to me now, _nothing _can be worse than that."

"Sit down, Saeldur," Ellaurë says, not unkindly. "So far your account agrees with what the son of Glóin has written."

"Then he _was _listening," Arahael mutters.

"For once," Ellaurë says dryly, "I will not fault a Dwarf for eavesdropping." She unfolds the letter she holds. "I will not read the first part again. The Lord of the Glittering Caves, the King of Gondor and Lady Éowyn were listening at various vantage points." She pauses to glance at Éowyn. "Is this correct, Lady Éowyn?"

"Quite correct," says Éowyn. "None of us could hear the entire conversation, but we pieced it together later, from what we had each heard."

"Thank you." Ellaurë begins to read.

_I will say this. I had not truly believed in Saeldur's innocence – but when he came out of the cottage after speaking to Arahael, I did believe. He looked as though he had seen the worst horrors of Middle-earth. Mayhap until that moment he truly did not know how real the danger was._

"It appears that the Lord of the Glittering Caves agrees with Elessar's assessment" Ellaurë says, turning to Saeldur. "I do not understand, even now. How could you not know the danger Legolas was in?"

Saeldur still does not have the words to explain. "I knew what Bregolien was capable of doing." His eyes flicker to Legolas. Legolas is looking at him now. "But I could not have borne the idea of Legolas dying… leave alone dying with_ that _between us… and Legolas has never failed me."

Ellaurë studies him for a moment before she continues reading.

_Unfortunately, Arahael was every bit the traitor we believed him. There was nothing to be had from him. It was difficult not to despair._

* * *

_**Ithilien, the Elven-Settlement**_

"Perhaps," Aeroniel said, voice shaking, as she looked around the small gathering in the cottage, "perhaps we must consider the possibility that it is – too late."

"No," Aragorn said fiercely, echoed immediately by Gimli, Saeldur and Éowyn.

"No," Arwen agreed, more thoughtfully. "No, I do not think he is dead. So many are looking for him – they would have found something. If Bregolien had intended to kill him at once, he would have done so and he would already be across the Ephel Dúath. There would be no need to wait and hide the evidence. If Bregolien has Legolas somewhere, hidden, then he must have him alive."

"Bregolien does not deal in quick and merciful ends," Saeldur said, a strained note in his voice. Gimli, looking at him, wondered if he was thinking of the last time Bregolien had murdered. Gimli himself knew only the barest bones of that – Legolas hated speaking of it. Aragorn might have heard more, but neither of them knew as much as Legolas' Elven friends. "Especially not after he has had centuries to brood on his wrongs. Arahael must be lying. Legolas is alive. Perhaps Arahael was going to meet Bregolien."

"Little that helps us if he will not tell us where," Aragorn said.

"But he must have had some means of communication. If we can find out what…" Saeldur looked around. "Do the trees know nothing?"

"Legolas went north. The trees there have not yet learnt to speak as these do."

"Talking to trees," Gimli grunted. "Dwarves learn things without talking to trees. You are all Elves. Think! How would two Elves communicate in a strange country?"

The Elves glanced at each other.

"They would not risk talking to the trees, even if they could," Aeroniel said. "The trees would give them away at once – they would know that."

"Bregolien must have Legolas somewhere without trees," added Arwen. "Or at least without any trees nearby. He _would_ have found a way to persuade them to help him, whether they had learned to communicate or not. He is Lindariel's son, and he is not a child anymore, and Bregolien is nobody's fool. He would not take the risk."

"Birds?" Saeldur suggested.

"Would birds be willing to betray Legolas?" Éowyn asked.

"Bregolien could write a message for a bird to carry," Aragorn said. "But we have little hope of finding the bird."

"He could not have trained birds," Aeroniel said. "He has been free a very short time. Arahael does not have _that _particular skill – and neither does Saeldur," she added. "We do not use birds as messengers here. If Bregolien and Arahael are using birds, they must be wild."

"Then is there any reason we cannot do the same thing?" asked Gimli. "You." He grunted at Saeldur. "You appear to have received enough treasonous correspondence in Arahael's handwriting. Can you forge it?"

"No," Aeroniel said promptly. Saeldur glared at her, but she shook her head. "No, I will not risk it. For all I know you might put in coded messages to Bregolien –"

"Do you seriously think I would give Legolas to Bregolien?" Saeldur snapped furiously.

"It does not matter what _I_ think. That is for the King to decide. In the meantime, I will take no risks with Legolas' life. One of us will try to imitate Arahael's hand. We have his letter."

"But what can we tell him?" Éowyn asked. "If we say he is in danger of detection, we might force his hand…"

"And he might harm Legolas," Aragorn finished. "No, we cannot do that."

"Do you think Bregolien might hold Legolas in Minas Tirith?" asked Gimli. "We met Arahael on the road."

"It would take too long for him to get Legolas all that distance, particularly if he was unwilling," said Aragorn. "Why not write to Bregolien saying Arahael is nearby with reinforcements?"

"What reinforcements?" Aeroniel asked.

"Orcs," Gimli suggested. "Or maybe Saeldur."

Saeldur scowled, but said nothing.

"How will a bird find Bregolien?" Éowyn asked practically. "We do not know where he is."

"We know the general area. Birds can often see what Elves cannot." Aeroniel glanced at the sun. "We must make haste."

"I will help you with the letter," Aragorn offered. "In the course of my travels I have acquired some expertise at forging handwriting."

"And I will find a bird," said Arwen.

The two _ellith _and Aragorn hurried off. A moment later, a pair of Elves arrived. Refusing to meet Saeldur's eyes, they escorted Gimli and Éowyn politely, but very firmly, from the cottage, barring the door behind them as they went.

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **I am so sorry. RL has been… well, bad. But things are better now and with any luck I can keep up a regular posting schedule through to the end.

Also, general warning, there are some mild references to torture. I don't think it'd be enough to trigger anyone, especially if you've read my other stories, but be aware that they're there.

Enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**Part XII**

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-king: Present**_

Legolas is in the centre of the room again. He is twisting the edge of his cloak in his hands in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. He drops it when Ellaurë signals that she is about to begin.

"Did Bregolien get the letter Aeroniel sent?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Tell us what happened."

"He thought he heard a sound outside, and went to check. He returned saying –"

"No," Arahael interrupts.

Ellaurë casts him a disdainful glance. "If you cannot stop disrupting proceedings –"

"_I _am not being disruptive. I only want to ask for more information. I am within my rights. You cannot ignore the evidence of what Bregolien told Legolas in those intervening hours. I want to hear it. It might be important. Perhaps he said something that will let me prove I had some justification –"

"There can be no justification for what you did!" Arbellason bursts out, unable to contain himself.

"How can you be certain, Lord Arbellason? You do not know what Bregolien said. Nobody knows except Legolas. Maybe he admitted that he learnt some unholy arts in Dol Guldur and used them to influence my actions. You cannot hold me guilty of treason until that possibility has been eliminated."

"That is absurd!" Saeldur snaps. "You have been speaking of this for years, Arahael, and your father for longer. You cannot claim it was Bregolien's influence when you only released him from his prison a few weeks ago!"

"Talking is not the same as action. Perhaps, had Bregolien not influenced me, I would have satisfied myself with words."

"You poisoned my sparring knives! Your father persuaded Melda to poison Legolas and then tried to murder him when that failed!"

"That was before the War," Arahael points out. "At that time we had reason to believe Legolas' death was in the interest of the realm. As has been pointed out, our understanding was flawed, but our intentions were good. Now, with our years in Middle-earth growing short, what motive had I to kill Legolas? I begin to feel more and more certain that it was Bregolien's influence. Perhaps he wove some enchantments into the letter I sent you, so that you, too –"

"No!" Saeldur snaps. "Whatever mistakes I made, _I_ made them, and there is no need for anyone to try to prove otherwise. You are trying to waste time –"

"Saeldur," Thranduil interrupts.

Saeldur falls silent and turns to the King. Legolas' blue eyes are on his father in silent entreaty, but he says nothing either. There is no choice, and he knows it.

"Arahael is entitled to call witnesses in his own defence," Thranduil says heavily. "Even if one of those witnesses is Legolas."

"I do not want to be told this time that Legolas will speak to the King and Lady Ellaurë in private and I must be content with their word," Arahael says. "That was what I was told when my father died. I will not be so deceived again. I want to hear everything myself."

Rochendilwen mutters something to Aeroniel, probably about how they should have pushed Arahael off a convenient cliff on the way to the stronghold.

"Arahael is correct," intervenes Norgalad, before the silence can grow dangerous. "He is entitled to hear the evidence. But there is no reason for the entire court to hear it. I, for one, will be quite content to take the King's word. Legolas can speak to the King, Arbellason, Thorontur and Ellaurë. Saeldur and Arahael can be present and ask questions if they wish. There is no need for guards in the presence of five members of the War Council."

"I think that is best," agrees the King.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

"What will it take to make you stop this?" Saeldur asks quietly.

He and Arahael are seated together on one side of the council table. The guards have been told to wait outside, to allow Legolas as much privacy as possible. There is no need for them here. Anyone who could lay hands on Legolas with the King looking as he does now would have to be Sauron himself in disguise.

Saeldur shivers at that thought.

"There is nothing you can give me." Arahael's voice is so cold Saeldur is almost afraid.

"We are not going to stop this," the King says, from his place at the head of the table. "I am sorry that I have to ask this of Legolas, but it must be done. I am going to see this through to its conclusion this time. There will be no more secrets, no more plotting, and no more attempts to murder my son."

There is nothing else for Saeldur to do but wait.

Thorontur and Arbellason come in and take their places, and then Ellaurë enters with Legolas. She shuts the door behind them.

"I want to know everything," Arahael says as soon as Legolas has seated himself. "Everything."

* * *

_**Ithilien, Some Distance from the Elven Settlement: Past**_

Bregolien was speaking so softly that Legolas could not have heard him if he had not been only inches away in the dark. He tried not to listen, tried to keep his focus on fraying the rope binding his hands as unobtrusively as he could.

But it was impossible to ignore the low murmur.

"Do you remember how your mother screamed, Legolas? What would she think of you now, sitting here in the dark, waiting to die? And you _will _die, I promise you. There will be nobody to save you this time. As soon as Arahael is here… You will tell me what I want to know, and then you will die."

"I am telling you nothing."

"Always so defiant. It is a useful quality in a warrior. But it will do you no good now. You could not save your mother then. You will not save yourself." Bregolien's voice is right by his ear, harsher and louder. "What would Lindariel think, Legolas? She died because of you – because _you _were too weak to defend yourself – and all for nothing, because you are still going to die by my hands."

Legolas did not even attempt to respond. Anything he said would only anger Bregolien further. There was no point antagonizing him if he intended to escape.

"What if I promised to let you live," Bregolien crooned, "in exchange for the truth?"

"We both know you do not intend anything of the sort."

"But what _if _I did?"

"I am telling you nothing."

"Your mother died trying to _save _you, Legolas." Bregolien's knife was under Legolas' chin again. "Do you not think you should respect her sacrifice enough to show some concern for your own life? Enough, at least, not to throw it away on someone who has betrayed you."

"You lie."

"Do I? Perhaps he did not actively _help _Arahael give you into my hands, but Saeldur obviously thinks you are not worth saving. Your friends are here looking for you, but he is not with them. By now they must know that you are in trouble, that you did not simply get lost in an unfamiliar part of the woods. Your most trusted friend is willing to leave you here. With me. To die. What does that tell you about yourself? What would your mother say if she knew?"

Legolas gritted his teeth and worked at the rope.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-king: Present**_

Saeldur has no idea exactly how much time has passed, but he has a feeling it is at least an hour.

Legolas' voice has dropped until it is barely above a whisper. Saeldur, directly across the table, has to strain to hear. Thranduil, who has been listening quietly, looks pale – almost ill. Saeldur feels ill himself, although it is not the worst he has heard of Bregolien from Legolas.

"Legolas, you do not have to do this," Saeldur says.

"He does," says Arahael promptly.

"You do not." Saeldur ignores Arahael and speaks directly to Legolas. "You do not owe anybody anything, Legolas –"

"He owes me the truth, the _full _truth, and as much of an opportunity to defend myself as it will give me."

"There is no defence," Saeldur snaps. "You know perfectly well that Bregolien did not force you to do anything you did not already plan. You are trying to make things as difficult for Legolas as possible –"

"Is there any reason I should be making things easy for him? For Legolas, who is the cause of my father's death?"

"If you are angry with me –"

"You have no idea how angry I am with you," Arahael says.

"You have the right. I do not deny that, though I do not regret what I did. But if you are angry with me, there is no need to take it out on Legolas."

"I want the truth. I am entitled to the truth, and I see no reason to give up my right. If Legolas finds it difficult to speak of past events, is that any reason why I should waive the possibility of a defence for my actions?"

"Why do you seek a defence for actions that you repeatedly claim were justified?"

"They _were _justified! My father was acting to protect the realm, and I – I was owed the truth. I was well within my rights to get it. I am only sorry I could not get to Bregolien and Legolas in time." Arahael leans closer to Saeldur, murmuring so that nobody else can hear. "It would have been so much sweeter to have wrung it from Legolas – Bregolien assured me he could do it."

Saeldur's fists clench. Before he can move, Arbellason says, "Saeldur, stop. No, whatever he said, I do not care. Stay seated. Arahael, perhaps you should move to the chair at the far end of the table."

Even Arahael does not dare argue with his tone. He goes.

"Legolas," Ellaurë says, "go on."

Legolas glances at Saeldur for the briefest moment before he continues.

Saeldur feels his stomach drop. It was bad enough when he thought that Legolas might die. It is far worse to think of what Bregolien might have done to force Legolas to talk.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-king: Present**_

The archers are gathered in their hall. On normal days, even in the dark time when the evil of the Necromancer spread from Dol Guldur, this would mean laughter and chatter among the Elves sitting along the walls fletching arrows or sharpening knives, punctuated by the scrape and clash of steel on steel from those sparring.

Today the silence is ominous, broken only by the whisper of whetstones on blades.

Rochendilwen exchanges a glance with Aeroniel.

Éowyn, standing beside them, looks apprehensive, as well she might. She knows most of these Elves. She has supped with them, gone riding with them, and danced with them beneath the sky on moonlit nights. In the merriment of the past few years in Ithilien, it has been easy for even Rochendilwen to forget that these are fierce and deadly warriors.

She is reminded forcibly of that fact now, as the archers work on their weapons in the stillness before the storm.

"We must do _something_," Aeroniel whispers.

That is true. The air is thick with tension. The knowledge that Saeldur might have betrayed Legolas is bad enough. Added to the fear that they themselves may have, by following Saeldur's orders, abetted Arahael in some way, it is a small miracle that no fights have broken out – or worse.

Rochendilwen and Aeroniel have talked to them, of course. They have said, until they have grown hoarse with repeating themselves, that nobody blames them, least of all Legolas; that in all likelihood Saeldur is telling the truth and was trying to protect Legolas, however wrongheaded his methods.

It has done no good.

Perhaps nothing will truly help, until Legolas is able to speak to them himself.

That is unlikely to happen until the trial is over. In the meantime, this cannot be allowed to continue. Without the routine of regular patrols the archers have all been in their cups. It is a disaster waiting to happen.

"Lady Éowyn," says Rochendilwen, her clear voice reaching every corner of the room. "Would you care to see an archery demonstration? We have finer ranges here than in Ithilien."

Éowyn takes her cue at once. "That would be lovely. I… I do hope you are not too busy."

"Not at all," says Aeroniel. "We have nothing to do for the rest of the day."

They pause.

There is a hush. Even the whetstones have stilled.

"Everybody up!" Rochendilwen snaps. "On your feet. Get your bows and get out to the ranges. Now!"

They are startled enough to obey out of habit, since it has long been one of Rochendilwen's duties to superintend archery training. They still do not speak much, but they scramble to their feet, gathering sheaves of arrows to fill their quivers, and run outside.

A few Elves milling about the training fields look up with interest. It has been some years since there has been a full-fledged archery display in the Woodland Realm, and everyone could do with a distraction. The first round has only a handful of observers, but by the time half an hour has passed, a crowd has gathered, wagers are being placed, and the archers have found a focus for some of their anger.

"It was a good thought," Éowyn murmurs, as she applauds another perfect volley.

"It will calm them for today. But it is not enough." Rochendilwen's hand tightens around her own bow. "I will not breathe in peace until this is all well over."

* * *

_**Ithilien, Near the Elven Settlement: Past**_

"Lindariel would be disappointed. After all these years, you are a helpless child still. I expected better from the warrior-prince of the Woodland Realm. If your mother were alive now, you would not be able to keep me from killing her any more than you did all those years ago." He paused. "Perhaps we should try it. We can see if you have improved at all. Would you care for a duel in the dark, Legolas?"

A moment later, Legolas felt a rib crack as Bregolien's fist dug into his chest.

"I asked you a question," Bregolien hissed.

"Is there any point in my answering?" Legolas asked. "Are you truly going to set me free to duel?"

"Even if I did, what would you duel with? You have no weapons." Bregolien stepped away. Legolas heard scuffling. A torch flared to life in Bregolien's hand. "Let me see what I can find here. The Orcs did not leave much that is worthwhile."

Legolas did not react. Whatever Bregolien had in mind, it could only be bad. It certainly would not involve giving Legolas a weapon with which he could reasonably hope to defeat Bregolien.

Bregolien knelt and examined something on the ground.

"Look," he said. "There _is _a decent sword here." He picked it up so Legolas could see it. It was of Mannish make, but not ill-crafted for all that. Its blade gleamed dully in the torchlight. "They must have taken this from one of their prisoners." Bregolien dropped it. Legolas winced at the clang. "Decent, but no more. I would not insult the Elven-prince by offering him a sword made by Men."

A little more scuffling. Then Bregolien said again, "Look."

Legolas looked.

Bregolien was holding up another sword. The workmanship was fine, finer than any Mannish sword Legolas had ever seen, equal to some of the finest swords made by the smiths of Gondolin. But there was an air of evil about the weapon: its blade seemed to give off a red-tinted dark gleam.

"This did not belong to any prisoner of the Orcs," Bregolien breathed. "Nor even to one of the Uruk-hai. But it is not fine enough to have been wielded by one of the Nine. Perhaps it was some lesser commander." The torchlight illuminated Bregolien's mocking smile. "This is a sword worthy of a Sindarin lord. Would you care to use it, Legolas?"

Legolas just suppressed a shudder. He would have to be facing far worse things than his own death before he willingly took up a weapon touched by the Enemy.

"There is nothing else worth using," Bregolien concluded. He came back, still holding the sword. "The Orcs left more weapons but nothing has lasted the years. Are you sure you will not have this, Legolas? You might even win if you did."

"No, thank you," Legolas said coolly.

"So be it. Perhaps I will use it instead. Or ask Arahael if he wishes to have the opportunity." He laid the sword on the ground, near enough that Legolas could have touched it if his hands had been free. "Perhaps, while we are waiting, I can make do with my own sword."

In the act of drawing his own sword as though to demonstrate, Bregolien paused. The torch in his hand went out.

"I believe I hear something," he said. "Arahael at last, I hope."

As he goes out to check, Legolas redoubles his efforts on the rope. He can feel it finally beginning to give. He only needs a few more minutes.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-king: Present**_

"That will do," says Ellaurë. "The rest can wait for court tomorrow. Thank you, Legolas. You may go."

"Wait," interjects Arahael. "I want further information. It is not yet clear to me –"

"Go, Legolas," says Ellaurë, as though Arahael has not spoken.

Legolas does not need further urging; he gets to his feet and leaves.

"Arahael," says Ellaurë, turning the full force of her burning gaze on him, "if you wish to receive such leniency as the council _might _be inclined to show, I suggest you refrain from further frivolous attempts to waste time – or to cause Legolas greater grief in a misguided attempt to avenge your father. No, I do not want to hear anything. Before the council passes sentence, you will be given an opportunity to speak. Whatever you wish to say, say it then."

She leaves the room, followed by Thranduil and Thorontur. Arbellason waits only long enough to summon the guards to escort Saeldur and Arahael home, before he departs as well.

As Saeldur is about to go, Arahael catches at his arm. "Wait."

Saeldur tries to pull free, but Arahael's grip is surprisingly firm. Knowing the King will not look kindly on them if they descend to the level of fisticuffs in the council chamber, he says coldly, "What is it?"

"I want to apologize."

Saeldur's eyes narrow. He is quite certain Arahael has had no change of heart. This must be another game.

"What for?" he asks, because it is clear Arahael will not release him until he has said all that he means to say.

"I am sorry I lingered too long on the road from Minas Tirith to Ithilien. If I had been in time, there would have been none of this unpleasantness."

"If you have nothing else to say –"

"Only _think_." There is such malice in Arahael's voice, it is clear the desire for vengeance has consumed him. Saeldur cannot believe he did not realize that earlier. "I know Legolas is brave – our beloved warrior-prince, as I have heard him described – but Bregolien assured me that _everybody_ breaks. Even the strongest Elf breaks in the end. He would have been no different. Then we would have killed him, and the King would have been too grief-stricken to worry about trials. Perhaps he would have been too grief-stricken to stay in Middle-earth."

"Let me _go_, Arahael."

"Think of it," Arahael says, in a beguiling tone at odds with the horror of his words. "We _would_ have had the answer from Legolas, no matter what it took – Bregolien said if all else failed he would carve it out of him. I know it has been held against me that I have not seen as much battle as some other warriors, but I think I would have seen my fill of blood. We would have _broken_ Legolas."

Saeldur is conscious of the two guards standing there watching, and wishes they would intervene. But they are probably waiting to see how much Arahael and Saeldur will incriminate themselves.

"I have shot an Orc or two, I think," Arahael goes on. "Maybe some spiders. But to plunge a knife deliberately into an Elf… I think that would be different. You have cut Legolas while sparring, have you not? Is it different?"

And Saeldur's mind is full of the sharpened sparring knife, of a nightmare of Legolas' blood on his hands and the blue eyes glazing over in death.

"Arahael, _please_."

"If I had been in time," Arahael says coolly, "Legolas would have _begged_ to die. I promise you that."

He strides from the room, followed by his guard.

Saeldur wants to follow, but his legs will not hold him. He sinks into the nearest chair. What would have happened if Arahael had –

No. He will not let himself think of that. Legolas is alive. That is what matters now.

In his mind he is on the battlefield again, and Candnaur is being dragged away by the Orcs, and his hands are shaking so much he can barely hold his bow –

A tight grip on his shoulder brings him back to the present.

Saeldur looks up at the guard, one of the older warriors of the Royal Guard, whom Saeldur has never much known – or troubled himself to become acquainted with. There is a rough sympathy in his face.

"You have been stupid," says the guard.

Saeldur wants to laugh. "You are not the first to tell me that."

"I am not blind," the guard goes on. "I do not believe for a moment that you deliberately put Legolas in harm's way."

"Legolas believes it." Saeldur will not admit that his voice is on the verge of breaking.

"I do not know if Legolas believes it. I think he is uncertain. But nothing else matters if Legolas no longer trusts you. Yes, I do know that. You should be grateful. As your friend just pointed out, your stupidity could have had far graver consequences. Legolas is alive, and if he will forgive anyone for this, he will forgive you… if you are honest. You cannot hide things from him and expect him to trust you."

"I am not hiding –"

"As I said, I am not blind. Neither is Legolas."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-king: Present**_

Elladan and Elrohir are waiting in Legolas' sitting room.

Legolas is grateful to seem them alone. With any of his other friends, he would have felt obliged to put on a show of strength he is far from feeling. But the sons of Elrond have never been his father's subjects, never been under his command.

"Sit down, Elfling," Elrohir says, pouring him a cup of wine. "How bad was it?"

Legolas shrugs. "It does not matter. It is over."

"I trust Arahael was unable to absolve himself of blame," says Elladan contemptuously. "He will be lucky if the King does not travel north to feed him to a fire drake."

Despite himself, Legolas laughs. "I think my father will do no worse than exile him, and be glad to see the back of him. He has caused enough trouble."

"Eredhion thinks there are more Elves involved." Elrohir refills his own cup. Legolas does not want to guess how many he has had so far, but he seems entirely sober. "Or, to be specific, that there were more Elves involved in Míron's original plot."

"I expect there were. If he went as far as corrupting Melda… But it does not matter now, as long as they were not involved in this plot of Arahael's."

"Nobody else would go that far. Only Arahael and his mother, who have been thinking about nothing but revenge for over a hundred years. Releasing the kinslayer who murdered the Queen… no, I do not think anybody else would do that. Míron's co-conspirators probably did dislike you – perhaps they still do – but they would never have dreamed of going further than words if he had not persuaded them that it was necessary."

"And now that the war is over," says Elladan, "I expect they are trying desperately to forget that they ever did anything so… so…" He stops, struggling for an adjective.

"I hope the King does not intend to let it lie," Elrohir says darkly. "Such things can fester."

"He can hardly dredge up what anybody may or may not have done over a century ago," Legolas points out.

"I do not think he will be bound by any such restrictions if your safety is at stake," Elladan retorts. "That is enough wine," he adds, when Legolas puts down his empty cup. "Do you intend to go to court tomorrow?"

"Yes. I want to see this through."

"Have you considered what you are going to do about Saeldur?"

"That is for the King to decide," Legolas says, a little unsteadily.

"I doubt Saeldur's punishment will be worse than Arahael's, as far as the King is concerned. And I doubt Saeldur will care what the King does to him. It is your verdict he is waiting for."

A knock sounds at the door. The King comes in without waiting for a response. All three young Elves get to their feet.

"I think we will retire for the night," says Elladan.

He and Elrohir leave.

Legolas collapses into his chair again.

For a long moment he watches his father, unable to find words for any of the things he is feeling. Fortunately, the Elven-king does not seem to need words. He bends to press a kiss to Legolas' forehead.

"You have no idea how proud you make me, Legolas," he says. "There is a great deal we must discuss, but it can wait. You should rest now. Tomorrow will be no easier."

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: **Here it is. This chapter also took a bit of work because I had to rearrange it a bit to have something here instead of later in the story – you'll see.

There is a fair bit of the fic left, though exactly how many chapters depends on how I split it up. Three or four, at a guess.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Part XIII**

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

After a sleepless night, Legolas is up before dawn. He dresses mechanically and goes into his sitting-room to find a book, although there is little hope of diverting his mind. Almost as soon as he has seated himself, the door opens and his father slips in.

"I thought you might be awake," the King says. "Did you sleep at all?"

"Not much," Legolas confesses.

"This will be over soon enough. In that connection, there is something I must discuss with you. I do not think there is any doubt the court will find Arahael guilty. Saeldur… he is guilty of an error of judgement, certainly, but I do not believe he has done anything worse than that. Do you?"

Legolas looks longingly at the jug of wine but decides against pouring himself a cup. It is far too early in the day to begin.

"No. I agree. It is an error of judgement, at least as far is the court is concerned. If he _does_ hold me responsible for Candnaur's death… that is his business and mine. Nobody else need worry about it."

Thranduil looks at him as though wanting to say something on that subject, but he keeps his peace. Legolas is grateful. Candnaur's death, and whether Saeldur blames him for it, are subjects far too raw for him to discuss with anyone, even his father.

"An error of judgement of this magnitude is a serious matter, without needing to add to it." is all the King says. "It calls into account his fitness for the responsibilities he holds. We will discuss what Arahael's sentence will be when the time comes. I would like to hear your views on that outside the council chamber. Saeldur's… certainly I will tell you what I think, if you wish, but it is for _you _to decide, Legolas. It has been some years since Saeldur dwelt in the Woodland Realm."

"He is being tried in your court."

Thranduil shrugs. "I can exile him. What purpose will that serve? I cannot send him from all Middle-earth for what he has done. I might, at most, exile him from Eryn Lasgalen for his mistake. It is for Elessar to decide whether he is still welcome in Gondor. I think he will be guided by your views. And Saeldur, if I know him, cares very little what my sentence is and not at all about Elessar's."

"Elladan and Elrohir said the same thing."

"Saeldur's first loyalty has always been to you. That is a good thing; that is what made him fit to be your second-in-command. But now it means that this responsibility must fall to you as well."

"I do not know what to do," Legolas says in despair.

"You have always had your mother's heart." Thranduil's voice is soft. "She was merciful, but she could also be stern when the occasion called for it. You were too young to know, Legolas, but the council was sometimes more frightened of her than of me. Trust your instincts. They will not lead you wrong."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-King: Present**_

Before Ellaurë can begin, Thranduil gets to his feet.

There is instant silence. The Elven-king commands respect at the best of times; with what is happening now, nobody wants to try his temper.

"The Royal Guard have brought to my attention," he says, his voice soft but reaching every corner of the large room, "that, while the decision to release Bregolien was made by Arahael and Amarthiel alone, other members of my court have been involved in plots against Legolas in the past. As much as I would like to believe this a lie, I do not doubt the Royal Guard. Should there be any such Elves present now, I urge them to come to me in my study this evening and confess. If they come forward on their own, I will be lenient. Lady Ellaurë, you may proceed."

"Wait, Ellaurë." Norgalad again. Saeldur cannot hold back a smile when he sees Legolas just manage not to roll his eyes. "Saeldur, forgive me for the digression, but I must ask – how long has this been going on?"

"How long?" Saeldur is too startled at the question to answer at once.

"How long have you been plotting with Arahael to have Legolas murdered? – Oh, very well," he adds irritably, when Saeldur protests. "How long have you been attempting to save Legolas' life through stupid and unnecessarily elaborate means?"

Saeldur's cheeks flame. "Arahael and Míron first spoke to me after Candnaur died – the day after he died – and –"

"After Candnaur died," Norgalad repeats, not waiting for the rest of Saeldur's response. "For the benefit of the court, let me make certain I understand you quite well. You have been involved in this folly since Candnaur died. You have been willing, at the very least, to risk Legolas' life on your belief in your own cleverness. Since Candnaur died."

Before Saeldur can respond, before he can even think of a response, Arahael cuts in with, "If you want to be certain you understand, Lord Norgalad, I can be of assistance. Long before he spoke to Saeldur, my father spoke to Candnaur on the same subject."

"No," Celephindeth hisses, the horrified disbelief in her voice making Saeldur wince.

"I do not lie, Lady Celephindeth. Whatever crime you want to ascribe to me, Candnaur was guilty of the same thing. You must make your peace with that."

"You lie," Celephindeth snaps.

But Saeldur remembers a day, many years ago, and a whisper of suspicion that he forced from his mind because he would not let himself believe that his dead brother had been guilty of treason.

"Do not worry, my lady," Legolas says evenly, sparing Saeldur a glance that is almost reassuring. "He _does_ lie. It is true that Lord Míron spoke to Candnaur, although not, I believe, as openly as he later spoke to Saeldur. Even Lord Míron was circumspect then. Candnaur would have nothing to do with it. Lord Míron never mentioned it to him again – I expect, without Candnaur's support, he thought there was no point."

"How do you know all this?" Arahael demands.

"I know because Candnaur told me."

Saeldur's stomach drops. He should feel relieved that his brother was not a traitor – but all it means is that Candnaur had better sense than he did.

"And you told nobody?" Arahael scoffs. "Do you expect me to believe that?"

"There was nothing to tell. As I said, even your father was more circumspect with Candnaur. He hinted that Candnaur would make the throne a better heir than I would, Candnaur laughed at him, and that was the end of the matter. Your father said nothing treasonous. He is far from being the only Elf who has questioned my abilities. Candnaur told me because he did not want me to hear it from someone else. I had a great deal on my mind and I do not believe I thought about it for more than five minutes."

"So Candnaur told you a piece of idle gossip. Yet Saeldur, who knew you far better, your own second, could not trust you with the same information. And he was right. I expect you realized that Candnaur was a threat to you, and that was why you –"

"That will do!" snaps Ellaurë. "Legolas, go on. You said Bregolien went to investigate the noise."

* * *

_**Ithilien, Some Distance from the Elven Settlement: Past**_

Legolas felt a mixture of excitement and relief. A little more work, and he would free his hands. The Mannish sword still lay where Bregolien had let it fall. If he could get to it, even in the darkness, he could get himself out of this situation.

The door opened and Bregolien dropped into the cellar. He was not as light on his feet as one of the archers would have been.

If Legolas had a weapon…

"Arahael is on his way," Bregolien said. His eyes were glinting with insanity. The tip of his sword dug into Legolas' ribs, just breaking skin. Legolas felt a trickle of blood. "Do you know what else he says?" He knelt over Legolas, pressing him back against the wall with a knee in his stomach. "_Saeldur_ is with him. It appears he wants to see you dead as well. How foolish must you feel, Legolas, putting your faith in the undeserving?"

Even if Bregolien's arm had not been cutting off his air, Legolas would not have bothered to respond.

"He will watch you die," Bregolien crooned. "And he will feel that Candnaur has finally been avenged. This is your last chance, Legolas. Tell me who killed Míron and I will kill you swiftly. Refuse… I will make you beg for a quick death."

Suddenly, blessedly, perhaps because of the pressure from Bregolien's knee, the rope gave way. Legolas pulled his hands free. Bregolien, not expecting it, lost his balance.

Legolas kicked at him and rolled away. The Morgul-blade was within reach –

He shuddered, scrambled to his feet, and went to where he had seen Bregolien drop the other sword. The trapdoor was still open, but the light did not reach the corners of the cellar.

"You think you will escape me?"

Bregolien leapt. Legolas sidestepped, jarring his injured arm against the wall. Pain lanced up to his shoulder. He gritted his teeth against it, avoiding another swipe, scraping his feet along the ground.

"You think you can escape all _three_ of us? You will be outnumbered soon. I expect you will defeat Arahael, he never was much of a warrior. But what of Saeldur? Will you fight to kill your friend?" Bregolien stepped forward, pushing Legolas back. "Of course, you already killed his brother. You may not find it difficult."

Legolas eyed the shaft of light entering the cellar. He had to get out. But Bregolien was making sure he stayed between Legolas and the trapdoor.

"You will die," Bregolien hissed.

With a sudden lunge, he seized Legolas' injured arm and wrenched it, while at the same time kicking at his knee.

Legolas buckled.

As he fell, his hand hit the hilt of the fallen sword.

Bregolien's sword raked his chest, deeper than before but still not fatal. Legolas managed to bring the sowrd up to parry and then slide away, to his feet, and fling the sword through the trapdoor. He followed it out before Bregolien could stop him.

Legolas blinked in the sudden glare of the late afternoon sunlight. He was behind the ruined tower. The sword was on the ground a few feet away. He snatched it up. Although his own blood was on his tunic, he felt a surge of hope. He was alive and he was armed. He could win this now.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-King: Present**_

"Wait," says Norgalad. "Did Bregolien come up after you?"

"He did, Lord Norgalad."

"Did he look for Arahael and Saeldur at all? Did he notice their absence?"

"I do not imagine he was expecting them to come so soon. It had been only minutes since he had received the letter. He did not mention it."

"Did _you _wonder why they were not there? Did you realize it was a ploy? Or think that Bregolien had lied?"

Legolas shrugs. "I did not think about it at all, Lord Norgalad. I was more concerned with defeating Bregolien."

Norgalad nods. "Go on."

Saeldur is not certain why he even bothered to interrupt.

* * *

_**Ithilien, Some Distance from the Elven Settlement**_

Legolas would have preferred his bow or his knives, but the sword was a good enough weapon for him to defend himself. He scarcely noticed the throbbing in his arm and his side. Bregolien had been a fine swordsman, once, and he might still have been able to defeat most opponents.

But the years Bregolien had been locked away, Legolas had spent training and fighting as the power of Dol Guldur grew once more. Even in Ithilien, the Elves had kept up their training schedule, if somewhat less rigorously. The need to guard against the odd remnant of Sauron's forces that had survived the fall of Mordor had kept them from growing lax.

Bregolien _had_ been a fine swordsman, but Legolas reflexes were honed to a point he could not match. If Legolas' injuries had not been slowing him down, it might have been over already.

"You _are_ better," Bregolien hissed, with a sudden lunge that forced Legolas back. "You have improved, Elfling, I grant you that. But you still do not have the will to win… If you had, you would have taken the best sword available, instead of allowing squeamishness about its previous owners to force you to choose one unworthy of a little Sindarin prince."

Legolas did not waste his breath responding.

"You hesitate when you should strike. You are weak."

Legolas barely heard him; he was aware of nothing but the dull gleam of the blades in the late afternoon sunlight, the clash as they met – and the very real worry that the Mannish sword he wielded, having lain unused for years, would not stand much more of this treatment. He could sense it from the way it vibrated. Already the blade was nicked in several places; a few more hard strikes would shatter it.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-King: Present**_

"Thank you, Legolas. Please sit. I think that is enough."

Saeldur is a little startled. This part of the retelling has not seemed to have a bad effect on Legolas. He is calmer than yesterday.

Clearly Ellaurë means to take no chances, because she nods encouragement when Legolas hesitates. Legolas returns to his place at the King's right.

For a moment Ellaurë seems about to summon Elladan again. Then, changing her mind, she goes to Thranduil and has a quiet conversation with him. Mídhaer rises from her place to join them. She nods vehemently about something.

Ellaurë does not look entirely convinced, but she returns to the middle of the room and says, "Rochendilwen."

Rochendilwen, is clearly not expecting this, but she not appear unwilling. She comes forward.

"Lady Mídhaer thinks it will do you good to speak," says Ellaurë. "However, you were not the only Elf present. There are others who can give the same evidence you can, including the sons of Elrond and the prince's guards. We will not compel you either way. The choice is yours."

"I wish to speak, my lady," Rochendilwen says promptly.

"Very well." Ellaurë brushes her hair out of her face. It is a sign of how worried she has been that it is not as tidy as usual. "Did you know Aeroniel had sent a false letter to Bregolien?"

"No, we had no idea. Fortunately, the bird that had given him the letter found us afterwards."

* * *

_**Ithilien, Some Distance from the Elven Settlement: Past**_

It was to Rochendilwen that the small red-headed goldfinch made its unerring way, landing on the branch in front of her and twittering in excitement.

She stared at it for a moment.

"Do you know where he is?"

The trees and birds of Ithilien, particularly this part of it, still recovering from the long dark shadow of Mordor, could not speak, or even echo the song of Arda, as freely as those in the Woodland Realm. But the goldfinch, hopping a few paces away and returning, fluttering its yellow wings, made no secret of its intent.

"Do you want us to follow you?" She whistled, sharp and shrill, the command for everyone to fall in. The archers obeyed at once, along with Eredhion and Voronwë, who knew their signals. Elladan and Elrohir hurried to join them.

In a very few moments, with a great rustling of branches, they gathered in the trees around.

"Go on," Rochendilwen told the bird. "We are coming."

The bird flew away, landing in a tree several feet away, waiting for Rochendilwen to catch up before it took off again. She kept her eyes on the bobbing scarlet head, not bothering to see if the others were close behind. They would keep up.

"Is he alive?" she gasped, as she leapt for a branch and almost overshot it in her excitement. She scrambled and steadied her hold. "Did you see him?"

The bird cocked its head and chirped; it could mean anything, but it did not seem mournful. She had to hope.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-King: Present**_

"You thought, then," says Norgalad, "that Legolas was dead? That it was, at the very least, a possibility?"

Saeldur does not understand the point of Norgalad's questions today.

"I did not know what to think," Rochendilwen responds. "We had searched, and found no sign of Legolas or Bregolien. The trees were confused – it showed how much work remained in that part of the forest. They did not understand what was happening. They were frightened. It frightened me."

"Then you understand something of how I felt when my father died," says Arahael.

Rochendilwen turns on him with a ferocity that is frightening.

"How you felt when your father died? Do you think you are the only one to have lost a parent? I have. Legolas has. Many other Elves who are in court at this moment have lost a parent – or, worse, a child. The realm has been at war, Arahael. We have not all had the luxury of plotting treason in the stronghold while others fought our battles."

"My father was not killed in battle!"

"Neither was my mother. Nor was the Queen."

"No, your mother and the Queen were murdered by your brother. I suppose it is too much to expect you to feel as others do about your loss."

"You speak boldly for one who is being tried on a charge of treason. If there is no Elven blood on your hands, it is not your own restraint you have to thank for it. But this I will tell you, Arahael, you whose reaction to your loss was to brood over it until murder and torture were the only thoughts in your vengeful mind. I have seen Legolas show mercy to those who harmed him. If you had the smallest part of –"

"Rochendilwen, that will do." Ellaurë finally finds her voice. "Lord Norgalad, did you have a point with your question?"

"It was only a question," says Norgalad. "To further my understanding."

"I trust it has been furthered and we may continue obtaining evidence. Rochendilwen, go on."

* * *

_**Ithilien, Some Distance from the Elven Settlement: Past**_

Rochendilwen, Elladan and Elrohir halted at the edge of the clearing at the same time, trying to take in what was happening without distracting Legolas.

He was duelling Bregolien – with a sword that, while not ill-looking, was clearly not as strong as an Elvish blade. His tunic was bloodied; how fresh the injuries were Rochendilwen could not say, but he was not as fast as usual.

Her pulse was racing. They had to do something – she could try to shoot from here, but she might hit Legolas – she might kill Bregolien instead of merely incapacitating him. She did not know if she had the courage to face that, no matter what he had done.

She felt someone try to brush past her, but Elladan was quick, catching hold of the Elf – Voronwë – and pushing him firmly into the trees.

"Are you out of your mind?" Voronwë hissed quietly, also mindful of the need not to distract Legolas. "I am going to put a stop to this."

"No," Elladan whispered harshly. "Let Legolas handle it."

"But –"

"He needs to do it," Elladan insisted, "if Bregolien is not to become a spectre that haunts the rest of his life. Legolas is not a child."

"If he had his weapons…"

As though in response to Voronwë's words, a final, hard hit from Bregolien shattered the sword. Legolas dropped it, backing away to a tree as Bregolien advanced on him. Bregolien thrust; Legolas would have leapt out of the way but the tree was behind him, and the point of the sword went into his shoulder.

Rochendilwen's hand grazed her bow before she changed her mind and seized her knives.

"What are you doing?" Eredhion demanded.

With a mental apology to the tree behind Legolas, she flung her knives, first the right and then the left, with the same deadly accurate aim that characterized her archery. They landed in the trunk inches from his hands.

Legolas glanced her way for a moment, then pulled the knives free in one easy, fluid movement.

Now that there was no danger of startling him, Rochendilwen, Eredhion, Voronwë, Elladan and Elrohir hurried closer, followed by the rest of the party. They need not intervene unless matters got out of hand.

There was no need. With the weapons, not his own but the next best thing, weapons crafted in Eryn Lasgalen, to the specifications of the archers, light, but deadly all the same, Legolas was suddenly much more in command of the fight.

Injured, he was slower than usual, but swift enough to startle Bregolien, swift enough to send his sword thudding to the soft grass and make him lose his balance.

Before he could move, one knife was at his throat, another poised to strike his hand if he moved for the sword.

"Yes, do it," Bregolien said. He sounded utterly mad. Whatever had been in him once of Rochendilwen's brother – the brother who had often been kind to her – there was no sign of it. "Do it. Kill me. Then everyone will know you are a murderer."

Rochendilwen did not know if she would have resisted the temptation in Legolas' place. But Legolas did, though it was with an obvious effort that he said, "This does not have to end like this. You are outnumbered, Bregolien. Surrender peacefully and you will face a fair trial in the King's court."

"A fair trial? Among those predisposed to hate me? Thank you for your kindness, my Elven-prince." He looked at the surrounding Elves, and a crafty gleam came into his eyes. "Where is Saeldur? Not here saving you. It appears Arahael was correct. He wants you dead, Legolas. You might as well accept the truth."

Legolas gave Eredhion a terse nod. He and Voronwë left the group of onlookers, coming to either side of Bregolien with their knives at the ready.

"What should we do with him?" Voronwë asked.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-King**_

Rochendilwen draws a long breath, fists clenching.

"Sit down," Legolas says unexpectedly. "I will tell the rest."

She stares at him. "Legolas, no, there is no need –"

"Yes, there is," Legolas says. He sounds calm but there is _something _in his voice that warns Saeldur that it may not last. "The court has a right to hear this from me. Sit down."

After a long moment, and with an unmistakeable look of relief, Rochendilwen obeys.

Elrohir comes with Legolas as he takes his place once more. Saeldur wants to say something but Legolas will not look at him – or even at Ellaurë.

* * *

_**Ithilien, Some Distance from the Elven Settlement**_

Legolas stared a moment longer at Bregolien, on his knees on the ground.

"Secure him," he told Eredhion and Voronwë. "We will take him to Eryn Lasgalen. He was the King's prisoner before he escaped. The King can decide what to do with him."

Lowering the knives, he turned away.

He had barely taken a couple of steps when Rochendilwen screamed his name. He spun, knives coming up –

Eredhion was flat on his back, cradling his arm.

Bregolien, with Eredhion's knives, was leaping at Legolas. Legolas had no time to move before Bregolien fell on the knives he had instinctively raised, even as one of his blades thrust at Legolas' chest, leaving a line of fire behind it –

Rochendilwen was still screaming, his name or Bregolien's, Legolas could not be certain –

And then, blessedly, someone pulled him away, into the shade of an oak, and lowered him to the ground.

Legolas looked up into Elrohir's worried face.

"Let me see," Elrohir said without preamble, already undoing Legolas' cloak.

"Is – Bregolien – is he –"

"Elladan will check. We will save him if he can be saved, little though he deserves it. But if he is dead, you need feel no guilt about it. You gave him his life; he chose to squander it in a desperate attempt at taking yours."

Legolas leaned back against the tree. Elladan had risen, shaking his head.

Bregolien was dead, then.

Legolas squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden burning in them. He could not give in to his emotions _now_. He knew Elrohir was right; had it not been for that last, desperate lunge, Bregolien would still be alive. He would be about to face the Elven-king's wrath, which would be a terrifying prospect for _anyone_, leave along someone who had attempted to take Legolas' life.

But he would be alive.

His eyes went to Rochendilwen. She was staring at Bregolien's still figure.

She met his gaze, and then, shaking herself free of her stupor with a visible effort, hurried over to him, positioning herself to block his view of Bregolien.

"How is he?" she asked anxiously.

"Fortunately," Elrohir said, his voice grim, "there is nothing fatal. It will be several days before he has a full range of motion in his arm, and he will need several stitches."

"Elbereth Gilthoniel," Rochendilwen breathed, sounding as though she was about to burst into tears. She turned away for a moment, closing her eyes, before she reached out. Her hand found Legolas' and squeezed it. "Never feel guilty," she said fiercely. "You would have spared him if you could, but Bregolien was past saving. Perhaps he always has been."

"Eredhion and I will bury him," Voronwë said, appearing over Rochendilwen's shoulder. "Elrohir, how soon can we move? Sauron may have been destroyed, but I will not be easy until we have left this accursed place."

"I would rather not move Legolas for a few hours, but you are right. The evil of the Enemy still marks this land. Elladan and I can make him comfortable enough to ride, though one of us will have to stay close to him."

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: **A couple of days later than I intended, but here we are.

I hope everyone who celebrates it had a lovely holiday season. And I hope you all have a wonderful 2020. Happy New Year!

* * *

**Part XIV**

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-king: Present**_

"So you are a murderer all over again." Arahael, it appears, cannot resist another interruption. If he gained any sympathy because of his father's death, he has surely squandered it all. "But I am certain this will be excused, as your actions always are."

"Self-defence is not murder!" Saeldur snaps.

"Be silent, both of you," Ellaurë orders. She turns to Elrohir. "You were there?"

"Yes, my lady."

"And you are not and have never been under Legolas' command. I trust the evidence of Elrohir Elrondion will satisfy the court," she adds.

"It will not satisfy me to hear from a friend of Legolas," Arahael begins, but he stops when Ellaurë glares at him.

"Forgive me," she says coolly. "I misspoke. I trust the evidence of Elrohir Elrondion will satisfy the court, with the exception of Arahael, who will have an opportunity to speak _later _and would be well advised to be silent now."

There is a murmur of assent.

"Is Legolas' description of Bregolien's death accurate?"

"Quite accurate, my lady."

"Is it possible that Bregolien could have been taken alive?"

"I do not think so. He surprised Eredhion – he bit him," Elrohir adds in explanation. "Eredhion was not anticipating that. He was unbalanced. Bregolien he managed to knock him over and take his knife. Bregolien was strong, he was an Elf, and there was only hatred in his heart. Legolas reacted instinctively, as any trained warrior would have done."

"Very well. Does anyone have anything to ask Legolas about Bregolien's death?" Norgalad raises his hand. "Yes, Lord Norgalad?" Ellaurë says irritably.

"Legolas." Norgalad's voice is perfectly even. "Do you think Eredhion or Voronwë would have killed Bregolien if you had ordered it?"

When Legolas hesitates over the answer, Voronwë says from where he is standing near the door, "I will tell you, Lord Norgalad. We would have done it. We would have done it even if Legolas had ordered otherwise, if it had been necessary to save him."

"Then why did it fall to Legolas to kill Bregolien?"

"As Elrohir said," says Eredhion, "Bregolien took me by surprise. I was not expecting the manner of his attack, but that is no excuse. Legolas turned his back because he trusted that Voronwë and I would have Bregolien under control. In that we failed. If anyone is responsible for Bregolien's death, other than Bregolien himself, I am."

Norgalad rolls his eyes. "Did I ask if Legolas was to blame for Bregolien's death? Has _anybody _other than the lunatic traitor over there suggested that Legolas was to blame for Bregolien's death? There is no need to bristle in his defence. All I require is an answer to the question. Legolas had his back turned, and everyone else was facing Bregolien. Why was it that he got as far as he did?"

"I think, Lord Norgalad," Legolas interposes, when Eredhion fails to answer, "that, if you were to ask everyone individually, they would say Bregolien was first too close to Eredhion, and then too close to me, for them to risk a shot. I had barely taken two steps away."

Norgalad nods.

"If that is all," says Ellaurë, "then, Legolas, you may sit. Thank you. Elrohir, please tell us what happened."

* * *

_**Ithilien, Some Distance from the Elven Settlement: Past**_

Elrohir emptied the pouch of herbs into the boiling water, watching as Elladan put in the stitches with neat precision. Rochendilwen, her face set in impassivity, was trying to explain to a bird how to take a message to Aeroniel.

They were fortunate. Legolas' injuries must be painful enough, but they were not fatal.

The threat of Bregolien was over.

Elrohir knew he should not rejoice that any Elf had been sent to the halls of Mandos, but if ever there was an Elf who deserved it…

The bird fluttered away. Rochendilwen turned to watch, dry-eyed, as Eredhion and two of the archers used a couple of stout boughs they had found to dig a grave. Voronwë and the others had gone in search of the traditional sapling to plant at its head.

Whatever Bregolien had done, in death he was given the respect that the Elves of the Woodland Realm gave to all who fell in battle.

This could all have been so much worse.

He thought of what Rochendilwen had told him and suppressed a sigh. It _was_ going to get worse. That was certain.

Rochendilwen glanced up at Elrohir, and then came to join him.

"How bad is it?" she asked. "Tell me the truth."

"Legolas will heal, I promise you. It is not that bad. He will be uncomfortable for a few days…" Elrohir shrugged. "Legolas can consider it a lesson against foolishness, and next time he will have more sense than to ride off unarmed by himself."

Rochendilwen scoffed. "Of all possible cause to which this can be attributed, Legolas' foolishness is the least."

Elrohir poured the steeped water into a small cup.

"That is true. It is, however, the cause over which he has the most immediate control. The Enemy might have been defeated, but his influence still touches Middle-earth. There will always be evil in some form. I know," he added. "It seems unfair that we have fought so hard for so long to win an imperfect world. But the fact that there is such ugliness in it does not take away from the fact that there is also great beauty." He got to his feet and went to Legolas, Rochendilwen following. "How do you feel, Legolas?"

Legolas managed a smile. "I feel as though whatever is in that cup is going to taste terrible."

"Quite right," Elrohir said cheerfully. He glanced at Elladan and, at his brother's nod, helped Legolas sit up with an arm around his shoulders. "But we have a fairly long ride ahead of us and if you would like to accomplish it without too much pain… Here."

He held the cup to Legolas' lips. Legolas grimaced, but he drank.

Almost at once, he relaxed, his brow smoothing.

He looked around, apparently noticing his surroundings for the first time.

"Where is Saeldur?"

Elrohir had been dreading that question. He shot a questioning glance at Elladan and Rochendilwen over Legolas' head, but, like him, they looked helpless.

"Bregolien said he…" Legolas trailed off, glanced at all of them, and finally settled on Rochendilwen as the likeliest to answer him. "Is it true?"

"Legolas…" She took his hand and gave it a light squeeze. "We found a letter from Arahael among Saeldur's things. He says he did not know and he did not read the letter, but…" She hesitated and then seemed to decide that it was best to tell him everything. "In the letter, Arahael said Bregolien told him he saw Candnaur in Dol Guldur. So he read that much, at least."

"Elbereth Gilthoniel," Legolas breathed.

"I am so sorry," Rochendilwen said.

"You need not apologize." Legolas' gaze turned to the form now shrouded in a cloak. "I should be the one – if I had been more careful –"

"_No._" Rochendilwen leaned down to look Legolas directly in the eyes. "It was not your fault. There was no saving Bregolien, Legolas. Perhaps this is for the best. Perhaps, in the Halls of Mandos, he will have time to reflect, and… and if he does return in Aman, it will be without the bitterness that has always filled his life."

A cleared throat made them all look up. One of the archers stood there apologetically.

"I am sorry, but… Rochendilwen, we found this in his pocket." He held out a small golden pendant in the shape of an apple blossom. "Do you want it?"

Rochendilwen took it. "This was our mother's. I have always wondered what happened to it. Thank you."

"We are going to bury him now."

"I am coming." She gave Legolas hand a final squeeze. "This is _not _your fault."

"This is not your fault," Elladan repeated firmly, echoed by Elrohir. "Rest, Legolas. We will leave soon, and you will need all your strength."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-King: Present**_

"Legolas took the ride as well as could be expected, I know," says Ellaurë. "Further details of that do not concern the court. I must ask only whether you saw signs of anybody _else _while you were searching for Legolas? Was there anything to suggest Bregolien had any assistance other than Arahael, or that anybody had accompanied him from Eryn Lasgalen?"

"Nothing, my lady. We saw nobody."

"Thank you. You may return to your seat. Court will adjourn for the day. Tomorrow," added Ellaurë, "both Arahael and Saeldur will be given the opportunity to say anything they wish and, if they so choose, present witnesses and other evidence in their defence."

Saeldur lets out a breath. Legolas will feel obliged to see him after lunch, then, to ensure that he is prepared. It is not the way he would have chosen to speak to him privately, but it is all he has.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

Aeroniel and Rochendilwen take Éowyn to the dining hall for lunch. Since their arrival, the Elves here have grown accustomed to her presence, and she gets only a passing glance. They have more on their minds than the lone mortal woman in their midst.

"What happens now?" Éowyn asks.

"Now Arahael and Saeldur make whatever defence they can. The King will allow them as much time as they need, but I doubt it will take more than a day or two." Rochendilwen pushes her bread around her plate. "The court will vote on their guilt. The King normally accepts the court's decision unless there is something very wrong. In this case I expect it will be unanimous."

"Arahael will be found guilty of treason," Aeroniel agrees. "There is little doubt of that. I think Saeldur will only be held to have been negligent in his duty. After that… since it is a matter of treason, and of Saeldur's duty to his commanding officer, the court will not be involved. The war council will debate their sentences, but the King will decide what to do."

"In any case," Rochendilwen adds, "we will not be required tomorrow unless Saeldur or Arahael calls on us as a defence."

Éowyn looks at the Elf in concern. She is in a dark mood, perhaps from having to relive her brother's death –

"I am not grieving," Rochendilwen says, as though guessing Éowyn's thoughts. "I did my grieving for Bregolien long ago, when he murdered the Queen and almost killed Legolas. I am only ashamed that it is my brother who did this thing – and that I did not have the courage to do what was necessary when I saw he was attacking Legolas."

"You warned Legolas." Aeroniel's voice is calm. "That was enough. Legolas would not have wanted you to do more – he would certainly not have wanted you to take the burden of action on yourself."

"In any case," Éowyn offers, "Legolas is unharmed. That is the important thing." She pauses. "What will happen to Saeldur and Arahael?"

"I do not know," Aeroniel says. "Exile is not a safe option, particularly in Arahael's case. He is unhinged and he will only take the opportunity to plot against Legolas even further. And Elessar has little hope of keeping him out of Gondor if he decides to enter in disguise. It is a vast country. He will either have to be imprisoned or sent to Aman."

"It is likelier that he will be sent to Aman, I think. There is nothing to be gained by imprisoning him for what little time Elves have left in Middle-earth." Rochendilwen shrugs. "As for Saeldur… I think that will be left to Legolas to decide, as Saeldur's commanding officer. The punishment for negligence in one's duty was normally removal from one's position – but the war is over and that would be purely symbolic. I do not know what Legolas will do."

Éowyn stared at her plate. She could not imagine how life in Ithilien would ever be the same.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

After lunch with his father, Legolas retreats to his study. He has things to do, but first he needs a few moments of solitude.

He does not get them.

His first visitor is Norgalad.

"Lord Norgalad." Legolas tries to infuse some enthusiasm in his voice, but he knows he has failed. Fortunately, Norgalad does not seem offended. "May I help you?"

"Perhaps _I_ can help _you_. I will not take too much of your time." He enters the room and takes one of the chairs around the small table where, in earlier days, maps and duty rosters were spread. "You have been looking more and more uncomfortable through the course of this trial, Legolas. I am not criticizing you. I cannot imagine that it has been easy."

Legolas waits. Clearly Norgalad has more to say.

"You know that the decision about Saeldur is likely to fall to you," Norgalad ventures at last. "He will not be convicted of treason, and although the court might censure him for his stupidity, the consequences to him would normally be for his commanding officer to decide."

"I am aware of that, Lord Norgalad."

"Yes, I expect you are. You are not a fool, although there have been times when I have doubted that. When the King first appointed you to the command of the archers, I was not at all certain you were fit for the position."

Legolas quirks a smile. "I could hardly have failed to be aware of your doubts."

"I did express them freely, particularly to you," says Norgalad, unperturbed. "Certainly you have made some mistakes, but I am glad to say that, for the most part, you have proven yourself capable. I trust you are aware I have never doubted your courage, Legolas. That is why I tell you now that you do not need to torment yourself further. If you wish, the court can take the decision on Saeldur's sentence. There are enough members of it who would be willing, and who could persuade the King to permit it. Not that he will need much persuasion. He will be glad to spare you."

"Are you telling me you can arrange this?" Legolas says, torn between amusement and astonishment.

"I would not describe it as _arranging_ anything. As you know, I have never been a warrior. Even when your grandfather led the armies of Greenwood to the Dagorlad, I did not go. I would have done more harm than good. I have stayed in the stronghold and left the defence of the realm, and its accompanying perils, to others better equipped than I. I did so with a clear conscience. My skills lie elsewhere. That is why it would be hypocritical of me not to offer to help you now… when I can. And several of my companions feel the same."

For a moment Legolas _is_ tempted. The decision about Saeldur has been hanging over him. It would be a relief to have it taken out of his hands.

But…

Many, many years ago, when he first took on the responsibilities Norgalad speaks of, Saeldur was the first to kneel and swear his loyalty. He kept his promise for centuries. No matter what has happened now, the least Legolas owes Saeldur is to make the decision himself.

"Thank you, Lord Norgalad," he says quietly. "But that will not be necessary."

Norgalad nods. "I thought you would say that. You may yet change your mind. If you do, my offer stands."

Legolas sees him out and sends a page to Saeldur.

It was hard enough returning to Ithilien after… everything. The next few days are going to be far more difficult.

* * *

_**Ithilien, the Elven Settlement: Past**_

Legolas braced himself as he dismounted. Even so, the force of Aeroniel's embrace took his breath away.

"Carefully," Elrohir warned from behind them. "He is injured."

Aeroniel apologized, but it was a moment before she stepped back.

"I am fine," Legolas assured her as soon as she released him. "At least… I will be."

"You will be," she agreed. "You should get some rest. There are things to do – but we can speak of them later. You must be exhausted. Rochendilwen sent me word of everything."

"We can hold Arahael here as long as we need to." Colfind settled for clapping Legolas on his uninjured arm. "But we should keep him separate from –"

He broke off as Aeroniel trod heavily on his foot.

"It is all right," Legolas said. "Rochendilwen already told me about the letter. I suppose I should see Arahael and Saeldur before I do anything else."

"You should see the letter first. I will get it," Colfind volunteered, and hurried off.

Aeroniel turned to Rochendilwen. "And Bregolien is –"

"Dead," Rochendilwen said brusquely. "Yes, at last. Do not look sorry for me, Aeroniel. I am _glad _of it. He would never have given up trying to do greater harm than he has already done. At least now, in the halls of Mandos, he has time for reflection and repentance."

Legolas and Aeroniel exchanged a glance.

"You should write to your aunt," Legolas suggested. "She will want to hear from you, and to know that you are well."

"Take your time," Aeroniel added. "The courier can wait until you are ready."

Rochendilwen sighed, nodded, and went off in the direction of her _talan_.

"It is as well we will not be leaving for Eryn Lasgalen immediately," Aeroniel said, looking after her. "You need to heal, and Rochendilwen needs to come to terms with everything that has happened, both Bregolien's death and the knowledge that he tried to kill you… again."

"Here is the letter." Colfind came running up with it. "But before you read it, there are several Elves, and some who are not Elves, who want to see for themselves that you are well."

Legolas felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He followed Colfind and Aeroniel back to the large clearing that was at the heart of the settlement. He had not quite set foot in it before he was seized and patted down by Aragorn, whose hands were gentle but thorough.

"You are a _fool_," Aragorn hissed, when he finally stepped back. "And I hope you know it."

"The Elven-king might decide to lock him in the dungeon," Gimli said, appearing on Legolas' other side. "I intend to write to him and suggest it."

"We do not have dungeons," Legolas said patiently. "Lady Éowyn. I fear you have had a more exciting stay here than you expected." Éowyn only smiled, but then a figure emerged from behind her who made Legolas raise his eyebrows. "_Arwen?_" He turned to Aragorn. "Exactly how alarmed were you?"

"Húrphen came and told us that Bregolien was at large and nobody knew where you were," Arwen said. "How alarmed do you think we were?"

Legolas would have responded, but the Elves now pouring into the clearing demanded his attention.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

"Yes, thank you. I will tell him." Celephindeth closes the door and turns to Saeldur. "Legolas will see you in his study in an hour to ensure that you are prepared for tomorrow. Either Eredhion or Voronwë will come to escort you there."

"What defence do you intend to make?"

Saeldur glances at his father. "I do not intend to make any defence. What could I possibly say that has not already been said? I have said I did not intend to harm Legolas, and that I was trying to help him. I think the court believes that."

"Do you intend to say nothing that might mitigate any sentence?" Now his father sounds a little alarmed. "Do you think that is wise?"

Saeldur almost wants to laugh. "It will not matter."

"Saeldur." His mother busies herself with rearranging some books. Her tone is grave. "I think you should prepare yourself for the worst."

"You think he will be convicted of treason?" His father sounds more than a _little_ alarmed now.

"Not in the least. Members of the King's court are not stupid. Saeldur knows what I mean."

"You think Legolas will not forgive me," Saeldur says quietly.

Celephindeth puts down the volume she is holding – a Sindarin version of some old Quenya poetry. It was Legolas who got it for her, coaxing one of Erestor's most irascible assistants in Imladris to translate the book.

"I have known you and Legolas all your lives, Saeldur. I have seen you as children. I have seen you growing up. I have seen you argue about every conceivable subject, several of which I would not have thought worth an argument. I have seen you refuse to speak to each for days over trivial issues. But never, in all this time, have I known Legolas afraid to look you in the eye – yes, he is. I can tell. He might forgive you. But I do not know if he will trust you."

"Legolas cannot believe Saeldur was trying to get him killed," Saeldur's father protests.

"He does not," says Saeldur. "He believes I blame him for Candnaur's death." He gets to his feet, unable to sit still. "But what can I do? I do not know what I can tell him – or even how to begin."

"You know Legolas better than either of us," says his father.

"Did you try to speak to him in Ithilien?" asks his mother.

* * *

_**Ithilien, the Elven Settlement: Past**_

"You are alive," Saeldur breathed when Legolas walked into the cottage, followed by Rochendilwen, Voronwë and Elladan. "Praise be to Elbereth. Are you –" He cut himself off. Of course Legolas was injured. He was holding himself too stiffly for it to be otherwise.

Saeldur reached for Legolas' hand and turned it over, pushing his sleeve back to study the bandage on his wrist.

He glanced up at Legolas for permission, which was given with a terse nod. Deftly, Saeldur undid the bandage. The skin underneath was torn and bloodied.

Saeldur felt something catch in his chest.

It was a minor injury – the least of Legolas' injuries, no doubt. It had probably scarcely even needed the bandage. But the sight of it was far worse than every other injury he had seen on Legolas. It meant his hands had been bound and he had struggled to free himself.

Saeldur redid the bandage with shaking fingers.

"I am so sorry," he said. He could not keep his voice steady, though he tried. Legolas deserved that much. "I am sorry for _everything_."

Legolas took a step back from him and held up the letter. "This is real, then?"

Saeldur opened his mouth, but no words would come. He could only shake his head, but it was an apology, not a denial, and Legolas knew as much.

"How could you?" Legolas' voice was closer to breaking than Saeldur had heard it in years.

"I only read the first page. I would never have sent you into that sort of danger – to _Bregolien_ – knowingly. I read the first page, and I could not bear to read more. If it – I know he must have been lying, now that I know the source of his information – but if it had been true –"

"If it had been true, it would have been my fault, as Candnaur's death was my fault," Legolas said quietly, in control of himself once more. "It would have meant I shot and missed, after allowing Candnaur to be in danger in the first place. Yes, I know. You already told me all that."

Saeldur does not know what apology he can make. They have argued before, but this – this is too big – too terrible –

"I was stupid. It is not enough to say I am sorry, I know. I should have spoken to you openly, of everything, and it might never have come to this. I know that." He dropped to one knee. "I swore to defend you – and I failed. I put you in greater danger and – and I hurt you. I know that. I know you are angry. I deserve it. I understand. But my bow is _yours_. It has always been yours, and if it is not yours, I do not want it. I will touch no weapon again, until – unless – you put one in my hands yourself."

"How can I trust you?" Legolas' voice was barely above a whisper. "How can I ever trust you again?"

Then he was gone, and Saeldur was squeezing his eyes shut to keep back tears.

He heard a throat cleared. With an effort, he composed himself and got to his feet. Elladan and Voronwë were not there – they must have left with Legolas – but Rochendilwen was.

"What?" Saeldur asked wearily. "I know you told me so."

Rochendilwen shook her head. "If I had imagined it would reach this magnitude, I would have done more than tell you so. This is not stupidity, Saeldur. This is –"

"Betrayal," Saeldur said bitterly.

"Yes. You may not have sent Legolas off alone deliberately, but what you said and did was bad enough. There is no point talking about it. The King must decide what to do."

"Do you think that matters?"

"No. It does not," said Rochendilwen. She would understand. Like Saeldur – like most of the archers – her first loyalty was to Legolas, and no amount of Thranduil's anger would be worse than Legolas' disappointment. "You have brought it upon yourself, Saeldur." She went to the door. "You understand, I am sure, that you will be under guard until we are ready to leave. Eredhion and Voronwë are taking no risks."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-king: Present**_

"I will stay there." Eredhion indicates the far end of the room, where a map of the forest is still pinned to the wall of Legolas' study despite the fact that it has been years since it was used to plan a patrol. "Tell me if you need anything."

"Thank you." Legolas waits until Eredhion has made himself comfortable before he says quietly, "What do you want to say tomorrow? Would you like to call any witnesses?"

"I want nobody," Saeldur responds at once. "Legolas, I do not care about tomorrow. The King knows – everybody knows what happened, and how. I do not intend to stand up in court and make excuses. They know what I did. I know what I did. I do not want their absolution."

"Lord Arbellason might decide to relieve you of your duties. If you want to make any appeal against it –"

"What duties?" Saeldur looks at Legolas. Legolas meets his gaze for a moment before turning away. His mother is right. Everything has gone so terribly, unimaginably wrong. "What duties, Legolas? I meant what I said to you. I would take on no duties if Lord Arbellason did suggest them, not until… unless…" He pauses. "I am not frightened of tomorrow. That was not why I came."

"Why did you come?"

"I do not blame you for Candnaur's death."

Legolas sighs. "Saeldur, we have had this discussion. There is no need to explain. Or to apologize for it, if that is what you intend. You are perfectly entitled to believe that I am to blame. It is not untrue that I was responsible. If you felt you could not say anything to me about it except when grief or anger made you incautious… I suppose that _is _my fault, and I apologize."

This is not how Saeldur imagined this conversation.

It would be so much easier if they were alone. But he knows better than to ask for that.

"You should know," Legolas says, "that Arahael has told Lady Ellaurë he intends to call you as a witness to speak in his defence."

"To call _me_?" Saeldur is astonished – and worried. Whatever Arahael's plan is, he is quite certain none of them will like it. "Can he _do _that? Surely I can refuse."

"You can refuse Arahael, but not the court."

Saeldur spends a horrible moment contemplating what words Arahael will try to put into his mouth. Arahael has no hope of establishing his innocence, so anything he plans can only be with the intent of causing more pain.

"Legolas, you should know something." He leans forward. Legolas looks at him warily. "It is only this. I do not blame you for Candnaur's death. You may not believe me. That does not surprise me. But even if I did blame you – even if I held you responsible for that, and for the deaths of my uncles, and every warrior the realm has lost to the fight against the Enemy – I would still _never _have given you into Bregolien's hands."

"Saedur, there is no need –"

"I swore to defend you, and I made no conditions. I went about it the wrong way, I admit, but, Legolas, there is nothing, _nothing _that would have persuaded me to allow harm to come to you, leave alone to participate in it myself. That is all I came here to tell you, Legolas. Nothing else matters."

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: **This took longer than I intended. Family emergency, a bit, but also… well, I wanted to have the next chapter ready to go before I posted this, so I didn't leave everyone too long on the way this chapter ends.

So, um, yeah. I did this.

At least two chapters to go after this… turns out there's more than I thought.

* * *

**Part XV**

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-king: Present**_

Éowyn cannot imagine how Elves, who like, from what she has seen, dwellings full of light and space, who are happier sleeping under the stars than enclosed within stone walls, can stand to live in a mountain. Although beautifully carved, with well-placed sconces and strategic openings that allow sunlight to illuminate the murals, there is something forbidding about King Thranduil's stronghold.

This too, is something the Enemy must answer for.

It is early, but the stronghold has awoken. There are Elves in nearly every corridor, guards and others hurrying about their duties. That is fortunate; they are able to direct her so that she finds Legolas' study without too many false turnings.

She is relieved to find him there. Rochendilwen said he would be up, but Éowyn was doubtful.

He welcomes her in, but his smile is obviously forced, a mockery of his normal merry expression. She has never known Legolas to despair, even not in Helm's Deep when the forces of Saruman pressed in upon them and it seemed they must all die there. It troubles her.

"I am sorry, Lady Éowyn," Legolas says. "I have been a negligent host. Normally I would have found time to show you the woods around the stronghold, at least. The forest has always been brightest here."

"Legolas, I hope you will forgive the liberty," Éowyn begins, and then hesitates, wondering if she should have used his formal title. They are, after all, in the hall of his father, who has ruled the Woodland Realm for more years than Éowyn can comprehend. After a moment, she shrugs and goes on. Legolas has never stood on ceremony and she would feel odd addressing him with the same stiffness she uses to the lords of Elessar's court. "You do not look like yourself," she says bluntly.

"I am tired, no more."

"May I tell you something?"

"Yes, of course."

"You knew my uncle."

"I had the honour. He was a valiant man."

"He was the only father I ever knew. Éomer remembers our father, a little. I do not, and I barely remember our mother. My uncle could not supply her place, but he did everything he could to make me happy. Until… until it changed. You know what happened."

"That was not his fault, Lady Éowyn. Saruman was to blame. And the one you called Wormtongue."

"I know. And I know it is not the same as… As you said, my uncle was influenced by Saruman, and I do not think anybody in Rohan could have withstood his power. But… you see, I knew none of that. I only knew that my uncle, who had loved and protected me all my life, seemed to have turned against me. I… I can understand, I think, how you feel about Saeldur. He has been your brother-in-arms – your second – and on the field of battle you have trusted nobody more than you have him."

Legolas manages a laugh. "You are perceptive, Lady Éowyn. Is Arahael meant to be Wormtongue?"

"Wormtongue was never as fair as an Elf, either in appearance or in speech. But has Arahael not been doing the same thing? Has he not been whispering lies and brooding over his petty wrongs, so that all that was once good in him has been swept away?"

Legolas looks grave. "You speak truly, Lady Éowyn. Arahael faces a far worse fate than anything my father can devise if he does not find a way to purge his soul of hatred."

"You say nothing of Saeldur."

"Saeldur has not been plotting murder."

"That was not what I meant."

Legolas lets out a long breath, his blue eyes clouded. "It is not the same as it was with your uncle, Lady Éowyn. Saeldur does not have the excuse of Saruman's influence."

"No, he does not. I do not excuse what he has done – I cannot. I see how it grieves you. I _know _how… When I thought… I _feared _that my uncle might expect me to wed… _Grima_… You saw him. He was a vile man, even before he was twisted to Saruman's purposes. I felt betrayed – as though my uncle must hate me to keep Grima so near him when he saw how he looked at me." Eowyn shakes her head. "Forgive me. I have told nobody this – not even Faramir. He did not know my uncle. I would not have him believe…"

"I understand," Legolas says quietly.

"So, you see, I can guess how you must feel, wondering if Saeldur holds you responsible for his brother's death."

"Are you here to tell me he does not?"

"I do not know whether he does or not. I do not know him well enough to judge. Aeroniel and Rochendilwen think not. I am inclined to trust their opinion. But what I do see – perhaps nobody else here does, because everybody is too accustomed to it, and I come as a relative stranger – I see how he looks. Saeldur does not hate you. No more than my uncle hated me. Saeldur would do anything for you. I can see it in him."

Legolas sighs. "Yes. I know."

"My uncle did not live long after he was freed of Saruman's influence. I know that is unlikely to happen in this case, but… But I think Saeldur would consider it nearly as bad to know he has forfeited your trust."

* * *

_**Eryn**_ _**Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-king: Present**_

Saeldur leans through the doorway and looks around the room. Nearly everyone is in place, waiting, and no doubt wondering what Saeldur intends to say. Nobody need wonder about Arahael, he has made his position clear.

The archers have chosen to absent themselves from this, even Aeroniel and Rochendilwen. Eredhion and Voronwë are there, standing with the rest of the royal guard.

Saeldur straightens and glances at Arahael.

"It is remarkable," Arahael says reflectively, "I always thought it would come to this."

"You thought it would come to being tried for treason?"

"No. Not _that. _If it had gone as I planned and we had eliminated Legolas, there would have been no question of a trial. Thranduil would have been too distraught to think of anything. I thought it would come to us in the end… to you and me. And so it has… although not in the way I intended. Nobody has taken advantage of Thranduil's offered clemency to confess, or we would have been told."

Saeldur shrugs. "You must know their names, and evidently you do not intend to reveal them. What is the point of this conversation?"

"What is the point of betraying those who were my father's friends?" Arahael counters. "I doubt that will make my position any better. In truth, I do not know as many names as you think. My father did – my mother does – but my own knowledge is limited. After my father's death, my mother could not persuade anybody to… help. They did not see the need to avenge my father's death." Arahael's tone grows bitter. "I was surprised _you _did not, but now I know why."

Approaching footsteps make Arahael fall silent.

Bercalion enters the antechamber, gives Saeldur a curt nod, and draws Arahael aside to whisper to him urgently. From Arahael's mutinous expression, Bercalion must be urging him to stop making matters worse for himself and throw himself on the King's mercy.

Legolas comes a moment later. Alone. Evidently the King thinks Bercalion is capable of containing Arahael if he should try anything.

"Are you ready?" Legolas asks Saeldur quietly.

Saeldur nods. "I am not planning to say anything. I do not need to be ready for _that_."

"Saeldur…" Legolas hesitates. "It is your right to make what defence you can. If you are doing this for my sake…"

"No. I see no point saying anything, that is all. Do you think I care what the court thinks of me? Or even Lord Arbellason? _What_ would I say, even if I wanted to say something? That I was trying to help you – and what Arahael said about Candnaur upset me – and…"

Saeldur trails off, forcing his mind to stay on the present instead of straying back to the battlefield.

"Saeldur." Something in Legolas' voice makes Saeldur look up at him sharply. "You have not told me everything."

"Who told you that?"

"Your mother did, but I am not a fool. I can see that you are holding something back. Do not worry. I do not intend to force your confidence. But… tell me if there are going to be any unpleasant surprises now."

"If there are," Saeldur says, "they will come as a surprise to me as well."

After a moment's pause, he takes Legolas' forearm and, with a glance up for permission, pushes back his sleeve. The wrist has healed completely.

Saeldur feels some of the tension ebb from his body, absurd as it is.

"You are alive," he says. "It could have been so much worse. Nothing the court does to me can be worse than… Every time I think of what might have happened…"

"I am perfectly well. I must go now. Ellaurë is waiting."

Bercalion waits for Legolas to leave before following him out.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-king: Present**_

Having said it once, to Legolas, already, Saeldur does not feel nervous as he faces the court. It will be a relief to have this over. The long days have been torturous for all of them, with the possible exception of Arahael. Of course, Arahael has had to face the knowledge that Saeldur killed his father. Saeldur cannot regret his actions, but he _is _sorry to be the cause of such grief.

No matter. It will all be done soon. Once it is _behind _them, he can _try _to talk to Legolas.

At Ellaurë's signal, he gets to his feet.

"I have nothing to say. I will accept the verdict of the court and the judgement of the King."

Norgalad opens his mouth, but Ellaurë silences him with a gesture.

"That is Saeldur's statement. It is his right to make it, and unless you want to begin a pointless argument, Lord Norgalad, I do not see what questions you could have about it. Arahael seems to have a great deal to say, so I suggest you reserve your enthusiasm for him."

Norgalad looks put out, but he obeys.

"Saeldur, notwithstanding Lord Norgalad's eagerness for debate, this is your last opportunity to address the court on this subject. Are you certain you wish to say nothing?"

"Nothing, my lady."

"Very well. You may sit. Arahael, you may speak now. Please remember that you are addressing those who will decide whether you are guilty of treason… and those who will later decide what your fate will be. Any genuine repentance you are able to muster for the damage you have done might encourage leniency in your sentence. To the court," she adds, glancing at Norgalad and then turning to look very sternly at the members of the War Council, "I will only say that Arahael is to be allowed to finish speaking. Arahael, go on."

Arahael gets to his feet with deliberate movements that remind Saeldur of the mummers he has seen in Minas Tirith. Perhaps Arahael can join them, if he is exiled from Eryn Lasgalen.

"I could explain why my father thought it was necessary to… eliminate… Legolas," Arahael begins, managing an even tone that would sound sane if it were not for the content of his speech. "But I doubt anybody will appreciate my point of view. I intend, instead, to tell you what happened after my father died. To bear witness what I say, I will call on Saeldur, who, whatever he might feel about me now, will, I think, do me the courtesy of telling the truth."

Saeldur bites his lip. This will not be good.

"Lord Arbellason came to deliver the news to us – to my mother and me. I will not fault his manner. He has never been particularly fond of me, or of my parents, but he was very kind that day. If he was a little too assiduous in offering to provide an escort to my mother should she wish to carry her grief and her memories to the Blessed Realm to heal, and to take me with her… I cannot blame him."

Norgalad fidgets, but a quick glance from Ellaurë keeps him silent.

"Lord Arbellason was kind," Arahael goes on, "but he was not informative. All we were told was that my father had been killed while attempting to kill Legolas… He even suggested that we should be glad, because the act of murdering an Elf would have damaged my father's spirit. But Lord Arbellason would not tell us _who_ was responsible for this act of charity. It has been pointed out to me that I am not the only one in the Woodland Realm who lost a family member. That is true. I now appeal to everyone who has lost a loved one to the fight against the Enemy. Think of how _you_ would have felt if you had been told nothing. Think of whether or not you would have been content with such answers as we received."

The silence is absolute.

"My father's body was returned to us for burial. He had an arrow wound in his back. He had been shot from behind."

Saeldur winces. He had no choice and he knows it, but said like that…

"Perhaps there are those of the wise who would have let the matter rest, who would have sought no further information, who would have found healing and peace. But I could not do it." Arahael pauses and casts a distinctly malicious glance at Celephindeth. "Of course, some among us have had the luxury of bringing the matter before the council and forcing answers if they needed more information. I had not."

Celephindeth's cheeks are scarlet.

"May I call Saeldur, Lady Ellaurë?"

Ellaurë glances at Thranduil, who gives his consent with a nod.

Saeldur stands.

"I asked you, Saeldur, after my father died, if you knew who had killed him." It is not a question. "I was sure you would. Legolas tells you everything – at least, at the time, he did. I was surprised when you told me you did not know. Now I know that was a lie."

"Yes."

"You were there when your brother died," Arahael says. "You saw it happen. You saw his last breath."

And Saeldur is there again, on the battlefield, his stomach clenching with panic –

"I did not look," he manages to say, "I did not watch the arrow. But, yes, I was there."

"You were there, you saw everything – or at least as much as you chose to see – and still the very suggestion of some uncertainty as to the manner of his death was enough to unbalance you. Do you wonder, then, that I could not rest without knowing the truth? You have not made peace with Candnaur's death."

And through the chaos of blood and noise, a beam of sunlight is flashing on bright hair –

"Just mentioning it made you behave with what most here appear to consider unspeakable cruelty to your dearest friend. I do not think you would disagree with that assessment. Do you wonder, then, can anyone wonder, that I was willing to cause a little pain to an Elf I do not even particularly like, in order to learn the truth?"

"If murder is what you consider _a little pain_," Ellaurë says dryly, "there is nothing to discuss. Do you want to say anything else, Arahael?"

"Only this. I have no choice but to abide by the court's decision, but I leave it to each of you, and to your conscience, to ask what you would have done in my place. Forget that we are speaking about your beloved warrior-prince. Ask yourself what you would have done, if one you loved had been killed to protect someone undeserving – basely killed, shot in the back – and nobody would give you answers."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-king: Present**_

While the court is still debating, Thranduil summons a meeting of the War Council. It is unlikely their votes will make much difference to the outcome, and he wants to speak to them in private.

Although, this time, there are no orc incursions to fret about, no worries about the Shadow spreading through the southern reaches of the realm, expressions around the table are variously grim and worried as the Elves take their seats. Maeglad, seated at the end nearest the wine, pours cups and hands them down.

"I doubt we will have a decision from court before late tonight," Ellaurrë says, taking a sip of wine and twisting her mouth as though even Dorwinion tastes like vinegar today. "Nobody is in any doubt of what to do, but… I think they _need _to talk about it. No doubt they will say Míron's death could have been better handled."

"No doubt it could have been," says Thranduil. "We could, for instance, have arrested Amarthiel and Arahael immediately on suspicion of involvement and wrung the truth from them in the same manner they planned to wring it from Legolas."

"My king," Legolas murmurs in gentle reproach.

Thranduil has to smile. "It is no surprise that the court finds the situation difficult to handle. But I expect a resolution today. I do think we should not make anybody wait after that. This has taken enough time." He pauses to glance at Legolas, who looks calm. "Barring any surprises, we know what the court will rule. The question is what we are going to do about it."

"Do you have anything in mind?" asks Bercalion.

"I have given the matter some thought." Now it is a struggle for Thranduil to keep his voice even. "My instinct is to respond with the utmost severity, and not only because Arahael's treason and Saedur's stupidity threatened Legolas' life. Releasing Bregolien from captivity, though I absolve Saeldur of blame for that, is one of the most reckless acts I can imagine. It is fortunate – if anything can be considered fortunate in this disaster – that he went straight to Ithilien. He could quite easily have chosen to stay here and exact his revenge on any other Elves he considered responsible for his captivity."

"My king," Legolas remonstrates – he is the only one who would dare argue, however mildly, at a time like this. "We cannot punish anybody for what _might _have happened."

"Unfortunately, that is correct," says Thranduil. "I should add that nobody has, so far, taken advantage of my offered lenience to confess."

"Thranduil," Ellaurë says, "I think you overestimate the courage of the members of your court, if you think anybody would dare to come to you to confess involvement in a plot to murder your son, no matter how long ago it happened or how much clemency you promised."

"I think I have shown a great deal of restraint," Thranduil replies coolly. "Has Arahael not been allowed to waste the court's time in every manner of his choosing? As for Saeldur…" He pauses, because he does not have words to describe how angry he is with Saeldur. Legolas has faced enough danger in his life that he would not have been unduly troubled by Arahael's attempted assassination. "Fortunately," he manages, his tone clipped, "it will not fall to me to decide Saeldur's fate, or he might find that his punishment exceeded Arahael's."

"What do you plan to do with Arahael?" asks Thorontur.

Thranduil quirks another smile. "That, luckily, presents no problems. He and Amarthiel will be taken to Mithlond under armed guard. I will write to Círdan, who can be trusted to see them onto a ship. At the same time, I intend to suggest that any who wish to make the journey to Aman at this time can join them." He shrugs. "I think we can rely on the fact that if those who were involved in Míron's schemes still linger here, they will go. In truth I am not worried about that. I do not think any of them is a threat now."

The Elves around the table murmur their assent.

"That leaves the question of Saeldur," Thranduil goes on.

"I do not think he intended harm to Legolas," says Thorontur. "You only have to _look _at him to know he is telling the truth about that."

"I agree," says Arbellason. "He is not guilty of treason. In truth, I do not think he is guilty of anything that concerns the War Council. He has been stupid –"

"More than _stupid_," mutters Mídhaer. "But you are correct. Saeldur could argue that, since he now lives in Ithilien, he is no longer answerable to the War Council."

"I doubt he will argue anything of the sort," says Bercalion. "If the War Council chooses to pass a sentence, Saeldur will accept it."

"What sentence can we pass? We cannot send him forcibly to Aman – there is no justification for that," says Ellaurë. "We _can _send Arahael and Amarthiel away because neither of them has shown the slightest sign of repentance. It is quite clear that they would only make further attempts on Legolas' life if allowed to remain in Middle-earth."

"We can remove Saeldur from his responsibilities as far as Eryn Lasgalen is concerned," says Arbellason. "That is symbolic, but it will make no practical difference to him."

"I can, and will, write to Elessar. He might have a view about what to do, and he has the right, since Ithilien is a part of Gondor. But I do not doubt he will be swayed by Legolas' opinions on the subject." Thranduil pauses. "As, of course, I will be. If we are agreed that Saeldur is not guilty of treason, or of any other crime, then his failure in his duty is a matter for his commanding officer."

"What does his commanding officer think about that?" Mídhaer asks shrewdly.

Legolas gives a weary laugh. "I will not pretend I like it, but I knew it would come to this. I will speak to Saeldur once the court has announced its ruling. Is that going to be public?" he adds to Thranduil.

Thranduil shakes his head. "I considered it, but given the sensitivity of the situation, no. Norgalad and Istadir will come and tell me when a decision has been reached. Bercalion and I will speak to Arahael and Amarthiel. Legolas will speak to Saeldur, at least to begin with, though later I expect I will want to speak to him as well."

"Do not commit murder," Arbellason murmurs. "That is all we ask."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-king: Present**_

This is not the first time Saeldur has been summoned to Legolas' study. Usually it is for a private scolding when he has done something that even Legolas considers unduly reckless. While that is not pleasant, this is…

This is different.

This time, Saeldur knows, he has exceeded even Legolas' ability to forgive.

For the moment, at any rate.

That is the one thing that gives him courage. No matter what happens now, Arda will endure for a very long time. Nobody is capable of being angry forever, least of all Legolas.

Saeldur draws a deep breath and knocks. He opens the door without waiting for an answer.

Legolas is alone. That is almost worse. If Eredhion and Voronwë have been persuaded to let him speak to Saeldur by himself, it can mean nothing good.

Legolas gets to his feet and comes around to stand before his desk. The King prefers that those he is reprimanding stand and squirm while he glares at them, but that has never been Legolas' way.

"The War Council has discussed the matter of your sentence," Legolas says. Saeldur can tell he is fighting to keep his voice steady. "It will be announced tonight, after the court's decision but I wanted to tell you first. There are no grounds for insubordination. You have been found guilty of negligence of duty in failing to inform…" He trails off, and it is a long moment before he begins again. "You have committed no crimes. Arahael and his mother are being sent to Aman, under guard. You may accompany them, if you wish."

Saeldur waits.

"You cannot…" Legolas pauses. "You will agree, I think, that it is best for everyone if you do not continue to dwell in Ithilien. It is unfair to expect you to live under my command when you hold me responsible for your brother's death."

Saeldur was expecting it, but he still feels as though a Morgul blade has lodged itself in his gut.

"Is that Elessar's decision?" he manages to ask. He does not say again that he does not hold Legolas responsible for Candnaur's death; Legolas is unlikely to believe him, and Saeldur cannot blame him for that.

"He left the matter to me." Legolas ducks his head and turns to fiddle with some papers on his desk. "I… You should know… all these years… the battles – and the archers –" Legolas' voice _is_ shaking now. "I could never have done it without you. I owe you my life – and more – _everything. _I will always – be grateful."

Legolas turns back. Anguished blue eyes meet Saeldur's. The last time Legolas looked so tormented was when he was telling Saeldur everything he remembered of the night Bregolien murdered the Queen.

This is as difficult for Legolas as it is for him.

Saeldur knows, _knows_ with the bone-deep certainty of all their centuries of friendship, that he can seize this moment. He need not explain, or even apologize. He can remind Legolas of the whispered confidences of that night, and of everything else after. He has only to choose his words, and Legolas will feel he owes Saeldur anything he wants.

Saeldur will never deserve to have Legolas' trust again, if he manipulates him that fashion.

He forces himself to speak calmly.

"Am I permitted to remain in Eryn Lasgalen?"

"Yes… of course. The king wishes to speak to you… he will speak to you after the announcement in court. I expect he will tell you all about… everything else."

"Thank you." Saeldur takes a step forward. "I am so sorry, Legolas. I would never willingly let harm come to you."

Then, because his self-control is nearly at an end, he runs out.

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: **Here you are. I _think _the ending of this chapter won't be as upsetting as the end of the last.

And there are two chapters to go after this. I know, I know, I keep saying that, but it turns out I wrote a lot more little bits and pieces than I realized.

Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter XVI**

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

"It is nearly time." Thranduil looks across the supper table at his son. For once, by mutual consent, they decided to forgo the meal in the dining hall in favour of a private one in the royal quarters. "Do you want to come?"

"To court? If you will permit it, I would rather not be there. I know what they will say, and… and I cannot face Saeldur again. My courage would not last if I did."

"Legolas," the King says gently, "you had every right to do what you did. You know that."

"I might have had the right, but you did not see how he _looked_ when I told him… It was all I could do not to relent at once. It is all I can do _now_ not to send for him and tell him I have changed my mind." Thranduil pushes a plate of cakes towards Legolas. Legolas is in no mood for cake, but he takes one, because refusal will only result in Galion spending all night bringing him dainties to tempt his appetite. "I cannot come."

"If that is what you truly want –"

"It is."

"Then I will not insist. You have already endured far more than I had any right to expect of you. But you should not be alone now – and not _here_." Thranduil makes a gesture that encompasses the royal quarters, quieter than usual under the present circumstances. "Where are Aeroniel and Rochendilwen?"

"Looking after Lady Éowyn," says Legolas, his face lightening. "I believe they intended to take her to see the river tonight. It is going to be a full moon."

Thranduil nods. He has noticed that Rochendilwen and Aeroniel have been taking on the responsibility of keeping Éowyn occupied, and he is grateful. He himself has no heart to be a cheerful guide, and Legolas has too much to handle already.

"Go outside, then. There will be more people about. If I see Elladan and Elrohir in court, I will tell them to meet you on the green. But we have a few minutes more. Legolas, I have never spoken to you about Candnaur's death. I thought the subject might be too painful to dwell upon. I see now that I was wrong."

"_Adar_, you do not have to –"

"You _know_ that it was not your fault."

"I was in command."

"You were, and therefore it was your responsibility to make the best decisions you could. Sometimes, no matter what you do, you cannot save everyone. It was a difficult situation. I should never have sent you there – it was hopeless and the ground was lost. Candnaur should not have gone after you. He had no battle experience and only a bare minimum of weapons training. It was foolish. You…" Thranduil shrugged. "I cannot even say that you should have sent Candnaur back, because there is no certainty that he would have survived the journey. You did your best. Nobody can do more."

"I could have insisted that Saeldur stay in the stronghold."

"Perhaps, but knowing Saeldur, there is every chance that he would have gone after you anyway. You are certainly not answerable for Candnaur's folly in chasing after him."

"Saeldur was standing next to me when he – when we saw – when Candnaur fell." Legolas' voice is trembling. "That first instant – his _face_ – he looked so horrified. I have never seen anything like it." Legolas hesitates and Thranduil nods. He has been in enough battles to know the look. "I would have done _anything_ to spare him that sight, or to undo it, but… but there was nothing I could do."

Thranduil reaches across the table to squeeze his son's hand. "I know you would have done anything to spare him that. And, believe me, so does Saeldur." There is a soft knock at the door. "That will be for me. I must go now… And so must you. Do not stay here by yourself. Find some of your friends and try to think of something else, even if only for an hour."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Outside the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

Legolas _does_ try. He goes outside and, without conscious thought, finds himself walking in the direction of the training fields.

Most of the archers are on the ranges. The usual crowd has gathered to watch and wager. If anything, it is even more boisterous than otherwise. Legolas is about to join them – he can watch the practice, even if he has no heart to participate – but he hesitates. If they notice him, they will either demand a demonstration, or, worse, want to speak about what has happened.

He knows he must speak to the archers. Rochendilwen and Aeroniel have told him – and he can see for himself – that they are worried about him.

But he cannot do it today. He has spent the past weeks putting up a façade of calmness he does not feel. He cannot do it again _now_.

He slips away before anyone can spot him –

Or _almost _anyone. Elladan and Elrohir fall in on either side of him as he walks towards the forest.

"Do not worry," Elrohir says, before Legolas can suggest that they find something more entertaining to do. "We are not going to ask you to pretend that everything is fine. You need not even talk if you do not want to. But you should not be alone."

_He would not have been alone, foolish Elf_, comes a grumble, and Elrohir huffs.

"Yes, yes, I know," he tells the tree. "And normally I would say you are very good company –"

_We want to talk to you, Elfling_, the tree goes on, ignoring Elrohir. _About the traitors. Every tree in the forest knows how grieved you were when you returned here, and you have hardly been out to speak to us._

Something in the tree's tone alarms Legolas.

"There is no need to overreact," he begins.

_No need to overreact! _Yes, Legolas is right to be alarmed. Trees are unpredictable at the best of times. _You could have been killed! I do not think it is possible to overreact to all that has happened. We know about it. We have heard the other Elves talking._

"You know better than to listen to gossip."

_All right. We will not listen to gossip. You tell us. Were you nearly killed?_

Legolas sighs. "That is beside the point. The _point _is that the King will handle this. If Saeldur decides to stay here, I do not want to hear about any foolishness from you."

_We are not going to _kill_ anybody. All we are saying is that a few well-placed dropped acorns –_

_Perhaps some strategic vines, _chimes in another tree.

_Strategic vines. Yes. These things would not go amiss._

"_No _strategic vines," Legolas says. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

_We will speak to the birds. Birds are flighty, unreliable creatures, but they have good ideas. Perhaps a rotten bough might fall at the right moment – that is ordinary, is it not? Boughs fall every day._

Legolas groans.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

Thranduil looks up at the knock.

"Yes, come."

The door opens the bare minimum required for Saeldur to squeeze himself through. He shuts it behind him.

"You wanted to see me, my king."

As angry as he is, Thranduil finds himself feeling pity for the young Elf before him. What he did was worse than foolish, and Legolas could have been killed – and it is quite clear that Saeldur knows that. Nothing else could so effectively quench his spirits. Thranduil has never seen him so downcast, not even in the days after Candnaur's death.

"Sit down," he says.

Saeldur sits on the edge of his chair.

"My king."

"You have already spoken to Legolas, I know."

"Yes, my king."

"He discussed his decision with me. I know it must be difficult for you, but I think you will find that it is best."

"Please," Saeldur says desperately. "_Please_ do not be kind to me now. It does not make it any easier to bear."

"You would rather I lost my temper, I suppose?" asks Thranduil wryly. "I do not doubt Legolas managed to keep his – he is hurt more than angry. I _am_ angry. I will not deny that. If you had acted against _me_ I would not have minded as much, but – Legolas trusted you." As he says it, he feels himself getting angrier. "_I _trusted you. I trusted you with Legolas' _life_, more than anyone. Before this, no matter what anybody said, I would have sworn you would never…"

He stops talking and draws in a deep, steadying breath.

"I _would _never – _never _– knowingly allow Legolas to come to harm."

"Few Elves know Legolas as well as you do. You might be telling the truth… but you did intend to hurt him with your allegations about Candnaur, even if it was only for a moment, even if you regretted it deeply… even if you had no idea what the consequences would be. You _meant_ to hurt him."

Saeldur does not try to deny it.

"I understand that friends will argue," Thranduil goes on, forcing himself to sound calm. "I have done my share of it… as, I know, you and Legolas have. I had an uncertain enough temper in my youth that I said a great many highly regrettable things. But this was different. I think I am entitled to ask why." He pauses a moment to consider his phrasing. "We all say things we do not mean. We hurt those we love the most. But this was –"

"It was cruel," Saeldur interrupts dully. Thranduil lets it pass, realizing that he is too distraught to worry about courtesy. "I know."

"You have never been cruel." Thranduil sighs. "Now that your commanding officer has made his decision, I have no right to demand anything of you. I am aware of that. But as a father, I am _asking_ you to find a way to forgive Legolas for your brother's death, because until you do, he will not forgive himself."

"I do not blame Legolas for Candnaur's death," Saeldur says fiercely, and with the ring of truth.

Thranduil decides to let it pass.

"I think, now, that I was wrong not to insist on your serving my court when your duties allowed, as I did with Legolas. Celephindeth and Candnaur both said you were unsuited to it. They were right, but perhaps it would have taught you to better control your temper. It certainly did Legolas good."

Saeldur jerks a nod.

"You are welcome to stay in Eryn Lasgalen if you wish," Thranduil goes on.

"Thank you, my king," Saeldur says, but he does not sound pleased.

"I know you find little comfort in that."

"With all due respect, my king, it does not matter."

Thranduil nods. "You may go."

Saeldur gets to his feet, bows formally, and goes to the door, shoulders slumped.

"Saeldur." About to open the door, Saeldur pauses and turns back. "Perhaps I should not be telling you this. But I think it is what Legolas would want me to do… if he were less personally concerned. I know you are unhappy, but it is not as bad as it could be."

"I know that," Saeldur says fervently. "Legolas is alive, and he has recovered. If Bregolien had… If Legolas had died thinking…" Saeldur shudders. "I could not have lived with myself. I can barely live with myself _now_."

"You and Legolas, like most Elves born in Eryn Galen in the Third Age, have seen a great deal. It is easy to forget that you are very young. You know, and so you do not need me to tell you, that Legolas is incapable of being unforgiving for very long… especially not where you are concerned."

"I know he will forgive me. But I will not ask it of him, not until... Legolas deserves that much."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-king: Present**_

Legolas sinks into his chair and buries his head in his hands. He stayed outside as long as he could, but in the end he retreated to his study, desperate to be alone. He is not ungrateful for his friends' efforts to cheer him, but at the moment he needs to think.

Or, perhaps, he needs _not_ to think.

He does not know what he is going to do.

He found the courage to tell Saeldur he could not stay in Ithilien, but it took every last bit of willpower he could muster. He does not know where he will find the courage, now, to return to Ithilien himself. His friends will be there, of course – and Estel and Arwen in Minas Tirith, and Gimli nearby, and Elladan and Elrohir dividing their remaining time in Middle-earth between Imladris and Gondor –

But that is not the same.

He and Saeldur have argued before, but he cannot remember feeling like this. In the past, no matter how much they quarrelled, he was always utterly confident that their friendship meant as much to Saeldur as it did to him, that Saeldur would support him in public no matter what he said in private.

And Saeldur has always done it. Legolas was telling the truth when he said he could not have done any of it without Saeldur's help. Even when he made the difficult choice to continue on with the Fellowship after Gandalf's fall, instead of returning home, he was helped by the knowledge that he was leaving the command of the archers in safe hands. Saeldur had known that Legolas would have returned if he could, and he had not allowed the archers to lose faith.

But this…

He does not believe Saeldur knew about Arahael's plan. That is true. He also knows that Saeldur would never knowingly have sent him to Bregolien. Saeldur is hot-tempered, but he is not that ruthless.

But Saeldur is holding something back.

Legolas knows that. He has known for some time. He did not need Lady Celephindeth to tell him.

And he has always been afraid to press the matter, because…

Because he is afraid of what he might hear. What if Saeldur _does_ hold him responsible for Candnaur's death – and not in the sense that Legolas was responsible for what happened under his command, but _truly_ responsible? Or worse? What if Saeldur does think that Legolas felt threatened by Candnaur – especially now that he knows that Legolas knew of Míron's veiled hints to Candnaur?

What if Saeldur wishes it was Legolas, and not Candnaur, taken by the orcs that day?

Legolas does not think he has the courage to face that. He would rather go back to Moria and see if there is another Balrog.

As though the thought of the Balrog heightens his senses, he becomes aware of something tingling at the edge of his consciousness. He raises his head, looking around the room. He is alone in his study. There are no doors other than one through which he entered, and no place for anyone to hide.

But he can feel impending danger.

Legolas knows better than to ignore his instincts. He pauses to pick up his knives. He will not make _that_ mistake again, and besides, he suddenly remembers a near-distraught Saeldur telling him about a very unpleasant dream. Then he pads to the door, opens it, and steps out into the corridor.

It is empty, but he can hear noise from the other end.

Someone screams.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-king: Present**_

Saeldur is relieved to see his parents waiting in the entrance hall. His mother is not pleased with him, but at least she understands that what is happening to him is far worse than any remarks she could make on the subject.

As he steps into the hall, he hears a commotion behind him. He turns to see Arahael and his mother, escorted by two guards, coming out of Lord Arbellason's study. He knows the King has already delivered their sentence; they must have gone to Arbellason to appeal against it. Judging by their furious expressions, he was not sympathetic to their cause.

They are lucky, in Saeldur's view. Being sent to Aman, to the judgement of the Valar, is a light sentence for what could have happened. All Elves will have to leave Middle-earth soon enough, or stay and fade into legend.

"_You_," Amarthiel hisses when she spots Saedur. One of the guards tries to restrain her. She shakes off his hand and takes a few steps towards Saeldur. It is the first time he is meeting her since he confessed to killing Míron. "You… _you_ murdered my husband."

Out of the corner of his eye Saeldur sees his mother starting to come towards him. He warns her with a glance to stay back. He can handle this.

"I killed him, my lady," he says, voice even. He has endured too much today to be upset by her reproaches. "He was about to murder Legolas. I had no choice."

"You killed him," she repeats, "and you did not even have the courage to come and tell me of it yourself." There is a soft murmur from the Elves are standing near the great door, four or five of the archers among them. This will be fodder for gossip tonight. "I am astonished that you can live with yourself, Saeldur."

She erupts into sudden motion, elbowing the guard in the stomach. He doubles over, clutching his middle. She seizes the knife from his belt and rushes at Saeldur.

The other guard starts forward to restrain her, only for Arahael to throw himself at him and bear him to the ground.

Saeldur pivots so that Amarthiel misses his neck, the knife going into his shoulder instead. She pulls it back to strike again. He seizes her wrist and forces her to drop it. The guard, recovering, takes her by the arm and manages to pull her away.

"That will be enough," he snaps. "Be thankful the King was not there to see that." He glance at Saeldur. "Go to the healers," he orders, sounding as though he does not particularly care if Saeldur does or not.

But before Saeldur can move, there is a scream – perhaps his mother, he cannot be certain – and Arahael is advancing on him with a knife in each hand. The room is utterly still. Saeldur is barely conscious of the pain in his shoulder –

And then he realizes that nobody is going to help him. His parents are moving, but they are too far, one guard has his hands full with Amarthiel while the other groans on the ground, and the archers are standing and watching.

Time has slowed to a crawl. Saeldur steps back.

His foot hits something – the knife Amarthiel dropped – and he has enough time to pick it up and disarm Arahael –

But he made a promise, and, if he does nothing else, he intends to keep it.

All of a sudden, time speeds up. Light flashes on the blades of Arahael's knives as they descend –

Saeldur is jerked sharply back, and _something_ is between him and Arahael, steel clashing on steel as the blow is parried.

By Legolas, coming between them.

Arahael draws back a pace.

Unexpectedly Saeldur remembers a nightmare he had long ago.

_Legolas, no!_

_Legolas' blood seeping between Saeldur's fingers as he vainly tries to stanch the flow and the life goes out of the blue eyes – _

And he knows it is now, and here, that it might happen. His veins turn to ice.

He tries to shoulder Legolas aside, but Legolas keeps him in place, his grip surprisingly firm as Arahael attacks again.

One of Arahael's knives clatters to the ground. With a hoarse shout, he slashes out with his remaining knife.

Legolas pushes Saeldur further behind him and holds him there with one hand. Saeldur looks around for the fallen knife – no promise is worth Legolas getting himself killed – but it is too far to reach. He dare not dive for it and distract Legolas.

He stays where he is, heart thumping painfully against his ribs.

Legolas' blade meets Arahael's, twisting it out of his grip with contemptuous ease. Legolas kicks it out of reach. Then the knife is at Arahael's throat.

"Do not try anything," Legolas says coldly. Then, raising his voice, "Why is nobody restraining the lunatic?"

At once, a pair of archers hurry forward, take Arahael by the arms, and pull him away, out the door and presumably to his mother's cottage. The guard holding Amarthiel takes her after them. Only then does Legolas release Saeldur. He takes a moment to glance at the other guard, who is staggering to his feet and appears only winded, before he turns to level a glare on the remaining archers standing by the door. They variously flush, shuffle, and try to sidle into the nearest wall.

"_Well?_" Legolas says. "Who is going to explain to me why you thought we have implemented a new policy of standing by idly while murder is committed in the King's halls?"

Without waiting for an answer, he rounds on Saeldur. "And what were you _thinking_, standing there and _waiting _for him to stab you?"

"I was thinking that I made a promise," Saeldur says, the shock of all that has happened loosening his tongue. "You might not believe me, but my loyalty is to you, as it has always been. If my bow is not yours, it is nobody's – certainly not mine. Not my bow, and not any other weapon."

For a moment Legolas simply stares at him in mute astonishment. Before he can speak, Húrphen hurries forward, reaching them at the same moment as Saeldur's parents.

"I will take him to the healers."

Legolas nods. "See that he has what he needs. I must speak to the King."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-king: Present**_

"No," Saeldur says impatiently, pulling his arm from Feredir's grasp. "I need no stitches." He sees his parents exchange a glance. "It is not that bad. It will heal perfectly well on its own."

"It will heal sooner," his mother says quietly, "if you allow Feredir to do his work."

Saeldur glances at the door.

Húrphen, after seeing him into Feredir's hands, has left. He did not meet Saeldur's eyes as he did. Saeldur knows the archers are angry – and disappointed – but he cannot keep from hoping that at least Legolas – after all, never before has it happened that Legolas has not come to see how he is, when he has needed the healers' care.

"Legolas is not coming," his mother says, interrupting his thoughts. "Stop being a child, Saeldur. Allow Feredir to attend to the wound and we can go home."

"He might –"

"Listen to me," she snaps. "You are no longer Legolas' second. You are no longer one of his archers. You are no longer his responsibility. He stepped in to save your life, as he would do for any of his father' subjects. He owes you no more than that – in fact, I question whether he even owes you that. Feredir!" She turns to him. "Put in the stitches and bind the wound."

Feredir hurries to comply.

Saeldur, unable to tear his eyes from the door, which stays resolutely shut, barely feels the needle.

Feredir is tying off the bandage when the door finally opens.

Legolas stands outside.

Celephindeth starts to say something, but she stops when she realizes Legolas is not paying any attention to her.

Saeldur gets to his feet.

"Good," Legolas says. He sounds calm, but Saeldur can hear the tense undertone. "I hoped I would be in time to see you."

Saeldur nods.

"I am sorry," Legolas goes on stiffly. "No matter what has happened, you should never have been in danger in the stronghold – and certainly not in the presence of a dozen warriors. That they thought they could simply stand by and allow…" He shakes his head. "That was my failing. I knew they were unhappy and confused. I should have spoken to them. Forgive me."

Saeldur finds his voice. "Legolas, _no_ –"

"And I cannot believe that _you _thought…" Legolas shakes his head. "Did you think you were going to please me by _letting _the lunatic kill you?"

"You should not have stepped between us." Saeldur meets Legolas' eyes and drops his voice. "When it happened – Legolas, it was just like my dream – the one I told you about – and I thought – I remembered –"

"That was why I picked up the knife," said Legolas. "I remembered that as well."

"And you still _came_? A knife might not have been enough. Legolas, there was so much blood and I could not stop it. I was afraid you would… You should not have taken the risk."

"You know as well as I do that every dream need not be a vision of the future. Even those with the gift of Foretelling only see one possible future that might come to pass. In any case… did you expect me to stand by and _watch _it happen?"

"I had no idea you were there," Saeldur says. "I would not expect you to stand by and watch anyone stabbed, but… But if you had been hurt… or worse… and after everything… Legolas, I _would_ rather die than see that."

"Do you think I would not do the same?" asks Legolas, voice very low.

"_Legolas._ That was not what I meant. I did not intend to hurt you – not like this, and not in any other way."

Legolas steps back. "I _am_ glad you are well."

"Come," Celephindeth says, not unkindly, giving Saeldur a slight push. "We should go."

Saeldur ignores her. "Thank you," he tells Legolas, gesturing at the knives still tucked into his belt. "You saved my life."

Legolas shakes his head, moving to the door. "You owe me no thanks." For the first time he sounds like himself. "You should go… and rest."

"Legolas, wait." About to leave, Legolas stops. "May I… may I come to Ithilien – not now, but in a few months? Just for a week or two, to gather my things?"

Legolas considers. Saeldur holds his breath, though he is not particularly afraid of a refusal. Even Arahael and Amarthiel will be given time to pack such possessions as they wish to take with them.

Legolas nods. "Yes, of course."

He does leave then. Saeldur, watching him go, thinks that he has at least bought himself time.

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: **So this was… complicated to write. Not the chapter itself, but just putting it together, because all my earlier rearranging meant that a lot of interlude bits that were meant to be here were moved to earlier chapters.

Anyway, here you are. Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Part XVII**

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Near the Stronghold of the Elven-King**_

_Saeldur scrambles to his feet when he hears the approaching footsteps._

_The bolt is drawn back and the cottage door opened. Aeroniel stands in the doorway. He starts to ask if she has heard anything, but the words die on his lips at the sight of her face._

"_No," he says. "No."_

"_They were too late." Her voice is toneless. "They managed to take Bregolien alive." The bottom is falling out of the world. "Rochendilwen says she found Legolas just before – when he was still able to speak. He asked for you. Bregolien told him everything."_

_Saeldur stares at her. Her mouth is moving, he can hear her voice, but he cannot understand the words._

"_Where is Legolas?" he asks. If he can see Legolas, everything will make sense._

"_Legolas is dead."_

Saeldur gasps as he comes to awareness.

"Legolas is alive," he says aloud, the first thing he says whenever he wakes now, because he always wakes from nightmares in which the opposite is true. "Legolas is alive."

His parents' cottage is silent around him.

Legolas is alive, and in Ithilien, and Saeldur has not heard from him for months.

He has not gone to Ithilien himself, despite having Legolas' consent. He planned to – he wants to – but he dare not, because to go and collect his possessions feels too… too final. As long as he has not gone, he can hope…

He shivers. The dream was too real. They always are too real. He has dreamed of someone – sometimes it is Aeroniel, sometimes Colfind, sometimes even Aragorn or Gimli – coming to tell him Legolas is dead. He has dreamed of Legolas dying on the floor of the entrance hall to the stronghold, blood spurting between Saeldur's fingers despite everything he does to stem the flow. He has even – and those are the worst – dreamed that Arahael was not caught in time and he and Bregolien tortured Legolas for information –

Saeldur pushes his hair out of his eyes, trying to push the image away as well.

He desperately wants to write to Legolas. He does not need much in response. A line or two will do, a line or two in Legolas' handwriting – a tangible sign that Legolas is alive and well –

That is comfort he does not deserve. It is no thanks to him that Legolas is unharmed.

He gets to his feet and turns to the window. It is a beautiful night, the moon just rising, but he feels no urge to go into the forest. The trees are polite enough to him – he suspects that Legolas warned them off trying to trip him up, because branches sway very ostentatiously out of his way when he passes – but they are also sullen, and he does not feel welcome.

Saeldur goes to his desk and lights a candle. He might as well amuse himself with a book.

He has been spending a great deal of time in the King's library, to the astonishment of Istuion. Istuion is responsible for the education of young Elves, and, overseeing Saeldur in that capacity, always despaired of making him read as much as Istuion thought he should.

Now there is little else Saeldur can do.

He chooses a book at random from the stack he left there earlier in the evening.

It is a history of Doriath.

Saeldur puts it aside. When he took it, he thought history would be dull enough to settle his mind, but the last thing he wants to read about is Elves killing Elves.

Lord Thorontur did invite him to the training fields earlier. Although not with the intensity of the years of war, the patrols are maintained. Dol Guldur may have fallen, but the Men and Dwarves who pass through the forest are not all friendly, even to their own kind. There are even occasional reports of brigands on the roads.

Saeldur did not accept the invitation. Lord Thorontur pressed him, insisting Legolas would not mind –

Saeldur scoffs at the memory, even as he selects another book. This one looks more promising: it is a collection of lays.

Of course Legolas would not mind if Saeldur took up his bow again. Legolas never asked for his promise to touch no weapons. Legolas would not dream of asking for such a promise, or of holding him to it if it was made.

But Saeldur does not have the slightest inclination to break his word. He cannot imagine serving under any commanding officer but Legolas, not if Legolas does not trust him.

He is also quite certain that, if he does visit the training fields, all that will happen will be that he will start having nightmares of Legolas dying by his hand instead of Bregolien's.

He opens the book of lays. The first page has a picture of a grief-stricken Elf-maid lying on a barge.

Saeldur sighs, closes the book, and takes another.

For the first weeks after the trial ended, he was glad to have time on his hands. He needed to be alone, and to think. But then it grew too much, and he tried to find things, any things, that he could use to fill the hours. He helped the healers grind herbs for poultices. He sat with a puzzled and somewhat disapproving Galion to count the barrels of butter coming from Dale. He even offered to help his mother discuss the terms of the new trade agreements with the Mannish envoy, but was firmly sent away with instructions to bother somebody else.

The third book is about a tragedy involving a man called Húrin. Saeldur wonders if there is anything in the library that is cheerful. He vaguely remembers that at some point the Hobbit Bilbo Baggins gave Legolas a translated version of a book from the Shire, some stories meant for children. He should see if he can find that.

Putting the books on the floor, Saeldur opens the desk.

There is very little in it. Most of his work was done in the archers' hall or Legolas' study. Here he has only a handful of old letters that, for one reason or another, he did not throw away. A few are from Legolas, written when he was in Imladris, and from his mother on her trips to Dale. There are several more from Aragorn. Despite their differences, they maintained a reasonably regular correspondence in the years before the war.

Saeldur takes them all out. He should burn the lot. His mother always says there is nothing to be gained by keeping old letters – and some of these are well over a hundred years old.

He shuffles them into order. The most recent is one Legolas wrote him from Minas Tirith, just before the battle at the Black Gate. Saeldur received it several weeks later, after the battle in Dol Guldur was won. He knew by then that Legolas must be alive – the King was too cheerful for it to be otherwise – but nothing else, and the melancholy tone of the letter alarmed him so thoroughly that he, Aeroniel and Rochendilwen decided to go to Minas Tirith to find out for themselves why Legolas was brooding.

He turns the letter over to read the end.

_But in truth I have had little time to think. Tomorrow we go to the Dagorlad to offer battle before the Morannon. It may all be for nothing. If the Enemy's remaining forces are as numerous as reports say… All I hope is that we can hold out long enough to give Frodo a chance. I can say it freely now; it no longer matters if the letter is intercepted. By the time anybody reads it, it will all be over, one way or another._

_Elladan and Elrohir are here. As grateful as I am for their companionship, it worries me to realize that we three alone stand in the place of the great Elven armies that marched to the Dagorlad in the last Age. We are a poor substitute for such mighty forces – and yet those mighty forces did no more than halt the advance of the Shadow for a brief space. Perhaps we do have a better chance now, putting our faith in a Halfling._

_Yet tonight, for the first time, I am afraid._

_I could not say this to anybody but you – not to my father, he has worries enough. I am not afraid to die – and it may well be that death is what awaits me before the Black Gates. I am afraid that even that may not be enough._

_If I live through tomorrow's battle – if I see you again – feel free to laugh at me. If not… if not, then do not grieve, for this is how it was meant to be. The time of Elves in Middle-earth is coming to an end at last._

Saeldur folds the letter up neatly and puts the stack back in his desk.

He did not laugh at Legolas when they finally met again. He was too relieved to see him alive.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

Thranduil leans back in his chair, not quite daring to believe the words on the page before him. It has taken longer, far longer than he thought it would, but it is done at last.

_I wish I had been able to send you these tidings sooner._

Thranduil wishes that as well.

Arbellason accompanied the warriors taking Arahael and Amarthiel to Mithlond. He _insisted _on accompanying them, telling Thranduil bluntly that, under the circumstances, he would not be easy unless he himself or Thranduil actually saw them get on the ship and leave Middle-earth. Since Thranduil must stay here and rule, Arbellason would go.

_I never imagined it would be an easy task, but I did not anticipate – nobody could have anticipated – the amount of effort it took to persuade Amarthiel to board the ship. Truly, she is… _

A large blot mars the paper, as though Arbellason paused with the point of his pen down, pondering how to finish the sentence, before deciding that no word would meet the circumstances.

_I will say for her and her lunatic son that they made no trouble on the way here. Their manner was unpleasant – for which I was prepared. I had little desire to talk to them in any case. They realized, I expect, that there was no point fighting the inevitable._

_Círdan was sympathetic, but he could do little to help. I truly feared my only option would be to bind her hand and foot and put her on the ship. Fortunately it did not come to that._

_I do not know what it was that changed her mind. I believe the sons of Elrond had something to do with it. I expect they will tell Legolas, so you can ask him if you want to know. They were here to bid farewell to the last group of Elves departing from Imladris. They plan to delay their departure a few years longer, to spend time with their sister. I am glad of it, for as long as they can stay; Legolas will be the better for their company._

Thranduil turns the letter over, smirking. Arbellason is normally not an enthusiastic correspondent – a few lines is the most that can be expected of him – but on this occasion he has covered four sheets, front and back. He must be very happy indeed to have seen the last of Arahael and Amarthiel.

Before he goes on with the letter, he slips out of the room to send a page for Saeldur.

The page must run all the way, because Saeldur arrives just as Thranduil is finishing the last page.

"Sit down, Saeldur," he says. "You are well, I trust. Istuion tells me you have been reading a great deal. I hope you find it worthwhile."

"It is something to do."

"I have some news that I believe you will find heartening." Thranduil lays the letter on his desk. "I have heard from Arbellason. Arahael and Amarthiel have taken ship at last."

Saeldur's relief is palpable.

"Legolas is safe, then."

"Yes, he is. I was also concerned about _your_ safety. Legolas has not sworn not to defend himself – I am not going to argue with you about it," he adds. "Thorontur already told me he tried to entice you to the archery ranges. I daresay you would find that more amusing than the library, but I understand why you refused and I will not force it upon you. There are many who do not bear arms, and you are in no real danger in Eryn Lasgalen – nor elsewhere in Middle-earth, now that Arahael and his mother are well away from it."

"Have you told Legolas?"

"I will write to him today, though I am told the sons of Elrond were at Mithlond. They have probably told him already. I daresay Arbellason also wrote to him directly."

"Is he… well?"

"Legolas?" Thranduil studies Saeldur's suddenly bent head. "Well enough, though he sounds more downhearted than I would like. More than he used to. I think it is the call of the Sea. As I said, I do not like it, but it is not a matter of great concern. We have a few more years, but soon all Elves who would not fade into a whisper of memory must make the journey."

Saeldur nods.

"He asks about you," Thranduil says, still watching Saeldur carefully. "Saeldur, you know Legolas would not want you to be unhappy."

Abruptly, Saeldur gets to his feet. "Thank you for telling me about Arahael, my king."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Near the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

Saeldur skirts around the training fields, but Thorontur finds him nonetheless, falling in step with him as he makes his way behind the stables.

"Do not worry," he says. "I am not here to press you further about coming to the ranges." He shrugs. "Most of the archers are in Ithilien, so I doubt you would find much competition in any case, even out of practice as you must be."

"Is that why you want to get me to the archery range?" Saeldur asks lightly. "Are you suffering from the lack of competition yourself, my lord?"

Thorontur laughs. "I will not say that I am not at all influenced by that consideration." They walk in silence for a few moments before he goes on. "I expect Thranduil has been telling you that Arahael and Amarthiel are finally on their way to the Blessed Realm. I hope this means real peace for us at last."

"Lord Arbellason told you?"

"He did." As they near the last clearing before the edge of the forest, Thorontur pauses. "You should write to Legolas."

Saeldur stiffens. "I am not going to make this any more difficult for him than it already is."

"Have you considered that you might make it easier for him? Saeldur, you… helped me, once. Allow me to do the same. I am not offering to speak to Legolas on your behalf," he adds hastily. "I doubt that would do you much good. But he does write to me sometimes and I can tell he would forgive you if you asked it of him."

"How can I ask for what I know I do not deserve?" Saeldur says quietly, turning away.

Thorontur does not follow him.

That night Saeldur dreams that he was allowed to join the search for Legolas, and found him just in time to watch him die.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Near the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

Celephindeth fights to keep her expression neutral when she enters the sitting-room to find Saeldur, for the third time in the last week, rearranging her books by the first light of the rising sun.

"Is it by the number of words this time?" she asks. "Or perhaps the shade of blue used in the illumination?"

Saeldur looks so injured that she almost laughs.

"You do realize that this is ridiculous," she says, putting a few books on a chair so that she has space to sit beside her son on the floor. "Saeldur, what are you doing? You obtained Legolas' permission to go to Ithilien to gather your things. It has been almost a year since then, but you have not gone. You refused Thorontur's offer to assist with archery training – yes, yes, I know your bow is Legolas'," she adds hastily, before he can say it. "But you are spending all your time like this." She gestures at the books. "When it is not the books it is the curtains, or going and bothering the healers to let you help them sort their herbs. Do you think this is what Legolas would want?"

"Am I supposed to be enjoying myself?" Saeldur mutters. "Dancing on the green, perhaps?"

"You know Legolas as well as I do. Legolas was not trying to punish you. He was trying to find a solution to a difficult situation. If your intention is to atone for your actions, how are you doing it by moping? A warrior should have more courage than this."

Saeldur flushes. "I am not a warrior anymore."

"Perhaps not, but you have been one. You were the most trusted of Legolas' captains. If nothing else, try to be worthy of _that_. This might not be what you want to be doing at this time, but you brought it upon yourself. At least face it with courage."

"Face it with courage," Saeldur repeats bitterly. "That would take more courage than I have. I would rather face another battle."

"Do not speak so lightly of battles. Our peace has been hard-won, as you should know better than anyone. But, yes, I know your courage wavers when you are not on the battlefield. If you had had a little more mental fortitude, you might never have been in this position."

"I know, if I had not said all those things to Legolas –"

"I do not mean _that_. That would require that you have the sense to hold your tongue when you are too overcome by your emotions to speak sensibly. I have very little hope of that." She pauses, adding ruefully, "I have not always been the best example of it myself. If you had had the courage to tell Legolas whatever it is you have been hiding – yes, you blush. Everyone knows there is something you are concealing. The truth can be difficult to face, so I will not fault you for not wishing to disclose it to the court. But I cannot see why you would not even tell Legolas."

"He would have hated me," Saeldur says. He speaks under his breath, but Celephindeth hears.

"That is foolish, and you know it. Legolas made friends with a _Dwarf_ – and the son of one of Thorin's band of trespassers, no less. He has a temper, I know, but it cools quickly. He is incapable of hating anybody, least of all you. You were – you _are _– afraid, that is all. If you could not bring yourself to speak openly to him… well, this is the consequence, and you must endure it. Try to endure it cheerfully and it will be easier for everyone."

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Near the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

Saeldur does not have a destination in mind, but he is not entirely surprised when he finds himself beneath the great oak tree just outside the stronghold. He and Legolas spent hours in it during the Watchful Peace, when they did not have to devote every spare moment to the defence of the realm, and as much time as they could afterwards. It is an ancient tree now, as trees go.

It hums in response to Saeldur's presence. That is a more welcoming response than he has had from any of the other trees. It is probably just because this tree is so much older, but it makes him feel better all the same.

He leaps up into it. It does not particularly help him. It does not hinder him either.

_You are alone_, it notes, as he settles on a branch – about three-quarters of the way to the top, not as high as usual. He does not want to risk the highest branches without Legolas' help.

"Legolas is not here. You know that."

The tree hums again.

After a long moment, it says, _Why are you here, then?_

"Where else should I be?"

_With the Elfling, wherever he is. He does not find peace beneath our branches as he used to, now that the birds have called to him. Birds always cause trouble._

"I know." Saeldur pauses. "And I do not think he wants my company."

_You are foolish_, says the tree, with the easy assurance of one who has no doubts in the matter. _I always knew it._

"He _told_ me not to come. I do not want to _force _my presence on him. After everything that has happened, I owe him that much."

_I recollect the two of you standing here after some terrible battle. If I am not wrong, the Elfling called you, among other things, stubborn, undisciplined and insubordinate, and you told him to go do stupid things and get himself killed and see if you cared._

Saeldur laughs. "That was different."

_How?_

"I did not mean what I said, and neither did he."

_No, you did not. You were angry and the Elfling was defensive. Why were you so angry? I asked some of the others, but none of the trees knew, and the Elves would not speak of it._

"It was the battle before Erebor," Saeldur says. "Legolas… it is a long story. But… he… did something that was… unnecessary. He might have been killed. For hours I did not know if he had survived. It was utter chaos. He was fine, but I was terrified. And furious." Saeldur shrugs. "And when Legolas had calmed down, he acknowledged that I had a right to be angry."

_You were angry, and he knew it, and so he did not think you meant what you said?_

Saeldur sighs. "I do not know anymore. I always thought… I _assumed_… Legolas _knows _I do not mean what I say when I am angry."

_You have been fortunate. Nobody insisted that you should sit in court, and so you deal only with those who are your friends, who will make allowances for your moods. The Elfling knows you say things that you do not intend to say when you are angry. That is true. But does he know you say things you do not mean?_

"You think Legolas thought I _truly _would not care if he got himself killed?"

_I was not speaking of your Erebor adventure_, says the tree impatiently. _I daresay he _was _as much at fault as you._

"Oh."

_Has it never occurred to you that the Elfling blames himself for your brother's death as much as you could possibly blame him? _

"I do not blame him!"

_Things might have turned out differently if he had acted differently._

"Or they might have been worse."

_The King thinks you went out of your way to hurt your friend with your words. This may be true. I have listened to you and the Elfling sharing enough secrets to know that you know how to hurt him if anybody does. But I think, perhaps, you were not angry with him. _

"You know a great deal."

_I think. You should try to do the same. You cannot hope to resolve anything until you understand yourself._

"I do understand myself," Saeldur mutters.

* * *

_**Eryn Lasgalen, Near the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present**_

In the end, it is a letter from Gimli that does it.

_Listen here, laddie._

Despite himself, Saeldur cannot help but laugh at that characteristic opening.

_I do not pretend to know all that has happened between you and Legolas over however many hundreds of years it is that you have been friends. I do know that it must be hard to lose a brother – and that nobody can bear a grudge like an Elf. Dwarves and Men, if they are not fools, do not have time to worry about who was at fault in a battle so long ago that even our grandfathers might not remember it._

_I do not know whose fault it was that your brother died. Legolas will not speak of that at all – not to me, not to Aragorn. Likely, as is usual when such things happen in battle, a great many decisions were made, and nobody can be blamed but the Orcs who took Candnaur._

_I have seen enough of you in the time – you would call it a short time, I imagine – that you have dwelt in Ithilien to know that you do not blame Legolas for your brother's death. You could not be as easy with him as you are, if there were so great a barrier between you. Legolas thinks you blame him, but Legolas thinks a great many foolish things, so I do not put great store by that._

_Because of this, and because, unlike your brothers and sisters in arms, I do not feel personally offended by your actions, I am going to tell you something they will not: Legolas is unhappy. He hides it, or he tries to, but it is easy enough to see. He is unhappy because he thinks if you think he is not to be trusted, it must be true, because who knows him better than you do? Much, I suspect, of what is going through your mind at the moment. You are both fools._

_Rochendilwen told me you did not protest Legolas' verdict when he delivered it. She seems to think this is a point in your favour. This is something I do understand, because Dwarves also have ideas of honour. But Dwarves do not have Ages in which to debate the finer points of philosophy, and so we are also practical in these matters._

_I would certainly have thought less of you if you had taken advantage of Legolas' good nature. But there is a difference between taking advantage of Legolas and torturing yourself and him unnecessarily. If you were merely making yourself miserable, I would not interfere. But Legolas is unhappy as well._

_If preserving the secret that you have been hoarding since your brother died is more important to you than Legolas' peace of mind, there is nothing for me to say. If it is not, then stop moping about how you are not worthy of his forgiveness and come here and find a way to deserve it._

Put like that, it is an easy decision.

Saeldur still does not know how he will find the courage to tell Legolas everything. But he has been doing little in the past months but thinking, so that at least his own thoughts are clear. He might still never have spoken them aloud if it had been only for his own sake, but for Legolas' sake – and for Legolas' peace of mind – he will find a way.

He writes to Rochendilwen, telling her only that he is coming. She will tell Legolas – Saeldur does not want to surprise him – and then…

He lets out a breath.

He does not know if he will deserve Legolas' forgiveness, no matter what he does. But he is going to try.

* * *

What do you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note:** And now we come to the end. This is a shorter chapter than most in this fic. There was quite a lot more (it was nearly double the length), but I cut out all the sections except this one, because… well, because it felt _right _that it should be just this. At some point I might post a bonus chapter with bits that I wrote for this fic (or this arc) and didn't use, but that won't be right away.

There will be more Mirkwood fic. I have a couple in mind. But writing and editing this one has been mentally and emotionally exhausting so I do need to take a few weeks off from it before I start anything else.

I hope you find this a satisfying end to the arc. I've had parts of this chapter written in one form or another for years – from the moment I wrote _Hours of Darkness_, this was the end I had in mind, though I had no idea if I'd ever actually write all the stories and get to this point. If you have actually read all the stories and are reading this now – thank you for staying with it!

* * *

_**Ithilien, the Elven Settlement: Present**_

Saeldur has been in the Elven settlement for four days and barely even _seen _Legolas more than that many times before he makes up his mind. It is difficult, because he feels like he is forcing Legolas into a difficult position. But Gimli was right. Legolas needs to know the truth. This is the only thing left todo.

He walks to the _talan _they once shared. He tries to seem as though he knows what he is doing, but he cannot keep his feet from faltering. Across the clearing, Elves are turning to stare – or glower – at him. One or two take a step in his direction, as though to stop him, but in the end they let him go.

Perhaps they know, as he does, that this is necessary.

He knows better than to try to climb the tree without permission. He lays a hand on the trunk.

_Go away_, the tree snaps.

"I want to help."

_You have done enough, traitor._

"Listen to me." Saeldur forces himself to sound calm. There is no point antagonizing the tree. "Everyone else here has spoken to Legolas. So have Aragorn and Gimli, the sons of Elrond, Faramir and Éowyn… and you can be certain the King said everything he could before Legolas left Eryn Lasgalen, and writes everything he can now. There is nothing left to be done unless I do it. Legolas is unhappy. The problem is of my making. That is why I believe I can solve it."

_Go away._

"At least let me try."

_You are a liar as well as a traitor._

The tree sounds personally aggrieved.

"You are angry with me," Saeldur says carefully. "And not entirely for Legolas' sake. It is on your own account."

_I trusted you. We all trusted you! There are so many of our brethren who still need the touch of the Elves to awaken to themselves once more._

"And if Legolas is not cheerful, the whole forest feels it. I know. Let me talk to him. I have lied, for stupid reasons. But never – _never _– have I wanted to do Legolas harm. I promise you that." The tree hesitates. "_Please_. Just let me go up. If he does not want to speak to me, I will leave."

At last, grudgingly, a branch is lowered enough to let him swing himself up.

The tree does not make it easy. Perhaps it is testing his resolve. He has to stretch for handholds and footholds, and more than one branch whips away from his fingers when he reaches for it.

Finally he has gained the _talan_. He clambers up.

Even as he enters the sitting room, Saeldur knows they cannot talk in the flet. It is better than being surrounded by stone walls, but it is still too… enclosed… for shared secrets. And if he feels that, Legolas will find it stifling. There is a reason Legolas' confidences have always come under the open sky.

He hesitates before the door to Legolas' room. Finally he knocks and opens it. Legolas will know he is here; the tree must have told him. And if Legolas had truly not wanted him, he would never have been allowed to climb.

Legolas is sitting by the window, an open book on his knee and a cup of wine in his hand. It is very nearly full, as is the decanter on the table beside him, so he has not had more than a few sips.

It is the first time Saedur is seeing him properly since their parting in the healing wards in Eryn Lasgalen. His first thought is that Legolas is far too pale. Gimli _was_ right.

"Saeldur." There is a brittle edge to Legolas' voice and Saeldur just manages not to wince. "I… Rochendilwen told me you were… I knew you were… I am sorry. I should have been here to…" Uncharacteristically lost for words, Legolas busies himself shutting his book and putting it on the table before he finally says, "Do you have everything you want?" He indicates the decanter. "Wine?"

The last thing Saeldur needs is that either of them should be under the influence of alcohol.

"Will you walk with me?" Saeldur gestures to the window. "Outside." Legolas hesitates. "Please. I will not take long." He spreads empty hands. "And I have no weapons, I could not threaten you."

Legolas scoffs at that, and gets to his feet.

Nobody tries to stop them from walking away from the small cluster of _telain_, though Saeldur is certain Eredhion and Voronwë have told the trees to raise the alarm if they go too far. They walk along the river in silence. The moonlight glints on the water and on Legolas' hair, and Saeldur can almost believe they are in the Woodland Realm, sneaking out after hours and hoping not to get caught.

When Saeldur thinks they have gone far enough, he stops. Legolas sits on a fallen log – at least that means he is willing to listen – but Saeldur is too full of nervous energy to settle down.

What if he cannot find the words to explain? Explanations have never been Saeldur's strong point.

What if Legolas hates him once he knows?

But Legolas is looking at him expectantly, and he has to say something.

"I was relieved it was not you," is what he says. "That was the beginning. I know it now. I could not admit it to anyone – not to my parents, certainly – not to Arahael – not even to you."

Legolas stares at him.

Saeldur realizes he is making little sense.

He turns away, trying to gather his thoughts, and, turning back, hesitates. He does not want to stand looming over Legolas, but he is feeling too restless to sit.

"What is it?" Legolas says, and it is the calmness in his voice that finally gives Saeldur the courage to speak.

"When Candnaur was taken," he says, "In the heat of the battle, the noise and the clamour, I had all but forgotten he was with us. It was unforgiveable, I know. I should have been paying attention to him and known where he was. He was there for my sake."

"You cannot blame yourself. We were all trained warriors, other than Candnaur, and it was our responsibility to try to keep him safe. We did our best – everyone did, I will answer for that. But we were never going to win that battle. It was even more chaotic than usual. The orcs were too numerous."

"Yes. I know. Legolas… I do not want you to misunderstand what I am going to tell you, so promise me you will hear me out fully."

"I am here, am I not?" Legolas says, with a wry smile. "Say whatever you must."

"It was… you are right. It was chaotic. You were there and in command that day, so I did not worry about keeping track of everyone. I was not aware of anything except what was immediately around me and my knives in my hands. I saw a flash of Candnaur's hair when he fell and the Orcs pulled him away – and I _had _forgotten he was there. I thought it was _you_. Legolas, for a moment I could not _breathe_. I was about to go after you – nobody would have been able to stop me. Then I heard your voice, and you were _there_, not taken and not dead – and _then _I remembered Candnaur. For that… that first moment… all I could think was that it was not _you_. I did not want him taken. I would gladly have given myself to the Orcs and spared you both. But if it had to be one of you… I was not glad it was him. I was _not_. But I was relieved it was not you."

"You never told me," Legolas says, his voice carefully devoid of inflexion, but not unsympathetic.

"I could not bear to admit it to anyone, not even to you. I was ashamed… and angry with myself…" Saeldur takes a few steps closer. He does not dare meet Legolas' eyes now. Sympathy will undo him, and he must finish. "Unfair as it was, I was angry with _you_… not because I thought you should have been able to save him, Legolas. I do not mean that. I was angry because… Because for that fraction of a second I _truly _believed you were dead – or worse. For all the grief I felt for Candnaur, I could not help being grateful that I had not lost you. It was _not _your fault, Legolas, and I did not understand myself then. I only knew talking about it – _thinking _about it – was too much. But I have had little to do in these months but think."

There is a long silence.

"Candnaur knew," Saeldur says at last, breaking it. "Not when he was taken – I pray, by the grace of Elbereth, that he knew nothing _then_. But he knew that although I loved him dearly, it was… different… with you."

There is much that is not said. It does not need to be. Legolas knows, as does Saeldur himself, that to be brothers-in-arms, to have fought side by side for as long as they have, leads to a tie closer than blood. They owe each other their lives a hundred times over, and more.

"Was that why you went to Arahael after Candnaur died?" Legolas asks.

"Perhaps. That was another thing I tried not to think about. I knew if I asked myself what I was doing, or why, I might find the answers unbearable. Arahael, I think, understood what I was feeling, far more than I did myself."

"More than I did, certainly," Legolas says, and the self-recrimination in his tone is too much.

"Legolas, I am not blaming you. I know what those days were like for you. I did not make them easier. Arahael lied to me, and encouraged me to lie to myself. It was easier than facing the truth, that I was as much to blame for my brother's death as anybody else. You took me off duty – you were right, of course, I was not ready for the battlefield."

"We have discussed this. Candnaur's death was not your fault."

Saeldur ignores the interruption. "Those first few days after Candnaur died…" He shudders at the memory. "I must have been mad. I… I did not _want _to hurt you, I have _never_ wanted to hurt you, but when I did…" Saeldur takes a step forward and drops to his knees so he can look Legolas in the eye. He _must _make him understand. "When I made you bleed, and when I said things that I knew would hurt you, I hated myself. I knew what I was doing, but I could not keep it from happening. It was as though I was outside myself and _watching _and helpless to stop it." He reaches out to take Legolas by the shoulders, but he stops himself and lowers his hands. "There. Now you know my greatest shame. I loathed myself for hurting you, and I felt like that loathing was penance for not caring about Candnaur enough. I know that sounds stupid. It does not excuse anything I did. I will not ask you to forgive me."

"Go on," Legolas says quietly.

"That was only those few days. When you took the archers out I thought – I _knew _– there was a real possibility that you would return seriously injured. It brought me to my senses as nothing else could have done. I begged your father and Arbellason to let me go after you, but they would not. I could barely live with myself. If something had happened to you… it would have served me right, of course, but _you _deserved better, and I prayed desperately that the grace of Elbereth would preserve you."

"After that?"

"After that… I did not want to tell you about Candnaur. I did not want to burden you further when you already had so much to bear. I see now that I should have spoken to you. I would have been able to cope with… with Arahael's insinuations… if I had unburdened myself. I should certainly have told you about Arahael and Míron and their plans. I have no excuse. I was stupid. I _never _meant you harm, Legolas, I swear it. I would die before I willingly let anything hurt you. I thought I could keep you safe."

"You did. Melda would have killed me if not for you. I owe you my life. I know that."

"You owe me _nothing_," Saeldur says vehemently. "I was going to tell you after that. I _would _have done it, had Míron not interrupted. But then…" Saeldur laughs bitterly. "I might as well admit it. I was afraid. I was afraid you would not trust me again – I would have deserved it – but I did not dare face it."

There is a moment's silence before Saeldur goes on.

"The moment was gone. I promised myself I would tell you everything, one day when I could muster up the courage. I never did. Arahael spoke to me, later, occasionally, but I doubted he would seriously do anything. After the war, we were here and he was in Eryn Lasgalen and I put it all from my mind."

"But then Arahael's letter came."

"It did."

"Saeldur, if you cannot forgive me for being alive when Candnaur is not –"

"_No._"

Saeldur leans forward. He wishes he had his bow – a knife – _anything _to anchor himself, because his heart and mind are so full he cannot find words.

Almost before the thought is fully formed, Legolas' hands are laid in his. Saeldur clutches them desperately.

"I do not blame you for Candnaur's death, or think you were threatened by him, or any of the other things I said. I _was _horrified, because I never forgave myself for not having the courage to make that shot myself, for laying that burden on you in addition to all the others. Arahael's letter… Colfind and Aeroniel had it right." Saeldur tries to laugh, but it comes out as a sob. "It was too much for me to face. It was easy to blame you, because you let me do it."

Legolas holds Saeldur's gaze a moment more before looking away.

"Never," Saeldur breathes, "never, never for a _moment_ think that I wish it had been _you _that day. I do wish Candnaur had been better prepared – or that he had never come at all – or, more than anything, that I had taken your advice and stayed home. But if I was destined to lose one of you that day… I am glad you are here, Legolas, more than I can possibly say. If Bregolien had…"

"He did not," Legolas says, "so there is no need to think about it."

"There. That is all. My bow and blades are already yours. They always will be, whether or not you want them. All I held back was the truth. Now you have it. I have kept no secrets, and if you want to ask any more questions I will answer. This is years too late, perhaps. I will not blame you if you cannot trust me again, and I will leave if you wish. I… I just had to make sure you knew."

"I thought you hated me," Legolas murmurs. "For Candnaur. If… If I could have given my life to save him, I would have done it. You know that."

Although there is no reproach in his voice, Saeldur flushes.

"I could not hate you if I tried. And if you had died saving Candnaur…" Saeldur does not finish the sentence. He does not want to let his mind wander down that road.

The silence stretches. This time it is Legolas who breaks it.

"I do not want to trust you."

Saeldur nods, and tries not to sob. He was expecting this, but it is still unutterably painful to know that there is no way back.

He starts to pull his hands away, but Legolas tightens his grip.

"I do not want to trust you. I thought I had learnt to be unforgiving." A smile quirks Legolas' mouth, small but _real. _"I have tried so hard all this time… but the truth is that I do not know how not to trust you."

Saeldur searches Legolas' face for a moment. Then he sits back on his haunches, relieved – and tired.

"You can read all my letters, if it helps."

His voice is shaking uncontrollably. He feels a ridiculous urge to cry.

"You do not have to be strong for me," says Legolas lightly, repeating what Saeldur has told him times without number.

That does it. With a wrenched sob, Saeldur drops his head to Legolas' knee. It is some minutes before he is able to raise his head. When he does, Legolas gently disengages his hands. Saeldur watches Legolas slide his dagger from his belt, not quite daring to believe until the hilt is pressed into his hands.

"Safe as the world is now, I would not have you unarmed. When I saw you stand there with the knife at your feet and not even _attempt _to pick it up. You were going to _let _him kill you. That must be one of the stupidest things you have ever done!"

"You were going to let Bregolien torture you for information," Saeldur says quietly as he takes the dagger. That is something he cannot joke about. "Even now, when I think about that… when I think about what might have happened and how close you came to death…"

"We are warriors. Danger is in our destiny."

"Danger in battle against the forces of the Enemy, perhaps. But if Bregolien had killed you, it would have been because of me." He pauses. "Your father thinks I might have learnt to control my temper if I had been forced to perform other… duties."

"Council meetings and trade negotiations, you mean?" Legolas shrugs. "Perhaps that is true. It is a little late for that."

"But it is not late for me to learn to control myself, as my mother has pointed out to me several times. I am not saying I will succeed every time, or that I will never argue with you –"

Legolas scoffs. "I would be very worried if _that _happened."

"_But_," says Saeldur, refusing to be diverted, "I will do my best. My mother said I should try to be worthy of your trust – and your friend Gimli said I should be worthy of your forgiveness. I know nobody else would have forgiven me."

"There are very few things that are truly unforgiveable. Words spoken in anger are not among them."

"I said the most hurtful things I could think of, and you almost _died_. Legolas, I have been having nightmares – no more than I deserve – and in all of them you die, with the last words you heard from me being such as I would seriously injure anybody else for saying to you. And every time I wake I know how fortunate I am that it is only a nightmare and I _can _wake from it. I would not have forgiven anybody else who did that to you. I cannot change the past. What I can do is resolve to be better."

"Talk to me," Legolas says, "when you are unhappy. That might help."

Saeldur nods. "Do you know where my bow is?"

"I think Eredhion and Voronwë put it somewhere. I will ask them to give it to you, if you like, but it might not be in good condition after lying unused for almost a year."

"It is not about the condition. I wanted –"

"I know what you wanted. It does not matter. I do not need your oaths, Saeldur… I am not angry," he adds, before Saeldur can protest. "You have sworn them, once. I trust you. I do not need to hear you say the words again."

"I need to say them." Saeldur straightens enough to look Legolas in the eye. "Or at least some of them. But you are right. I do not need the bow for this. You have my loyalty, now and always. I will defend you with my life."

"And I will try to be worthy of your faith."

"You already are."

* * *

THE END


	19. Cut Scenes

**Author's Note:** I wasn't even seriously planning to do this. But with the way the world is right now… well, we could all use a little escapism, right? So, here you go… a selection of cut scenes, not just from _Dusk _but from all of the arc, with some of my commentary to go with them. This isn't all of them by far – there are way too many, too many abandoned plotlines – but I hope it'll be a bit of fun to take everyone's mind off everything _else _that's happening. (They're all unedited, for the most part, so please forgive any errors.)

I hope you're all well and healthy, wherever you are. Stay strong, stay safe, and remember that we _will _get through this.

* * *

_I never really found a place for this particular cut scene. I didn't even write it fully, it's just a snippet of what could have been. It was meant for the beginning of a fic exploring Celephindeth a little – but, well, I think I wrote enough of her in other fics that it wasn't really necessary. At the time I wrote this, I intended that the Elves would be able to recover Candnaur's body, though the fic didn't go that way in the end._

Candnaur's funeral was held on a balmy day in autumn.

The whispering of the trees was silent as the grave was dug and the body lowered into the welcoming earth.

Nobody spoke. Nobody had to. The Elves would sing their laments through the night, sing of their lost kinsman and sing for his safe passage across the Sundering Sea. But in the light of the afternoon sun, watching two of the archers plant an oak sapling at Candnaur's head, they had no desire to speak of their loss. The pain was too near.

Legolas was the first to move. The sun glinted on his golden hair as he bowed formally to Candnaur's mother, Lady Celephindeth.

"I am sorry for your loss."

She made no response. Legolas was grateful. She had said more than enough the previous day in court, when she had spoken out fiercely against the archers and their recklessness and barely stopped short of accusing Legolas of causing her son's death through negligent leadership.

* * *

_More Celephindeth! I meant to have her flout Legolas' advice to go south – but that would have been stupid, and Celephindeth most definitely isn't stupid, even when she's angry._

Legolas was sitting back against the ancient oak, one leg curled under him, bow held loosely in his left hand. Clad in green and brown, he merged so perfectly into the forest that not even Elven eyes would have spotted him unless they had known precisely where to look.

He was not alone. The patrol had strung itself out, the archers climbing into trees nearly fifty yards apart, so that between the twelve of them they covered well over a quarter of a mile of the Elf-path.

They had been there nearly an hour. So far it had been a quiet watch.

Legolas' attention was caught by movement to his left. He turned. Triwath was signaling to him, a gesture that indicated that there were Elves on the path.

Legolas nodded his understanding, reaching a hand behind him to the tree.

"Who is it?" he murmured.

_Friends_, the tree assured him. Then it added, _Foolish friends, for they mean to go south._

"South? How far?"

_They want the yellow flowers by the stream past the green hillock with three beeches._

It took Legolas a minute to work out what the tree meant. When he had, he shook his head. It had been a quiet watch, and there was no reason why they could not go there, but his senses were tingling.

"Too far to go unarmed. Do they have an escort?"

_Warriors? No, no warriors._

Legolas sighed. He did not object to patrolling, or training, or sorties, and he was willing to accept the occasional injury as the price he paid for keeping his father's people safe. But he hated dealing with the Elves – far too many of them – who insisted on going where Ellaurë advised them not to. Arbellason had said, more than once, that those who went past the line of Elven warriors went at their own risk; all the same, Legolas could not bring himself to let anybody walk into danger.

He leapt down, landing without a sound, and, indicating that the rest of the archers should stay where they were, he went to investigate.

With the trees guiding him, he found the group of four ellith just as they were about to turn off the path into the woods to the south.

He suppressed a grimace with difficulty when he saw his friend Saeldur's mother.

"Lady Celephindeth."

Celephindeth turned to him with a strained smile. Although the first shock of grief had faded, she had never quite been easy with him since the death of her older son three years previously.

"Legolas. We were going for marigolds. The healers are running low."

She waved a hand behind her, and Legolas saw three of the healers. It was with greater difficulty that he suppressed a second grimace.

"I would not advise it, my lady," he said, keeping his voice neutral. "It is not safe, as far south as you intend to go."

"We will be fine, Legolas," one of the healers protested. "I have been there often with my father."

"Going with Lord Thorontur is not the same as going alone, Calathiel," Legolas said.

He had kept his tone mild; all the same, Calathiel showed no signs of going back. "We must replenish our stock, Legolas, and we do not want to deplete the flowers near the stronghold. Lady Ellaurë gave us leave."

Before the incident with Candnaur, that might have given Legolas pause. But if that disaster had taught him anything, it had been that he should trust his instincts in the field, and trust to Ellaurë's good sense to understand why he had considered it necessary to rescind permission she had given.

* * *

_This was meant for a flashback in Loyalties, but it didn't really fit. So the setting for this scene is before Lindariel's death._

Arbellason stopped short at the sound of voices. He had come outdoors for a stroll – it was a beautiful night – and, until now, there had been no sound save the whisper of the wind in the trees.

A moment's listening told him it was only a group of young _ellyn_ who had probably had the same idea as he had. He laughed softly; this close to the palace, there could be no doubt of who it was.

He moved on silent feet, rounding the building but staying in the shadows as he watched the group of four young Elves. Legolas, Saeldur, Eredhion and Voronwë, he guessed. They were walking in the shadows, and other than their occasional snickers there was nothing to give them away. He might not have known they were there if he had not heard them –

Until they passed through a pool of moonlight.

Arbellason laughed to himself, waiting until they parted in the rear courtyard – they were obviously returning from illicit revels they did not want their parents to hear about – and Legolas was standing on the grass beneath his balcony, about to leap up onto it.

Arbellason stepped up behind him and cleared his throat.

Legolas uttered a startled sound that was almost a squeak, whirling to face him. "Lord Arbellason!"

"Good evening, Legolas," Arbellason said cheerfully. "Have you been out?"

Legolas studied him for a moment, apparently gauging his mood, before he laughed and nodded. "It is a beautiful night. You will not tell my parents?"

Arbellason shrugged. "You are old enough to be out at night if you choose, so long as you did not stray too far from home." He paused expectantly, and Legolas quickly shook his head. "Good. Then as long as you are in time for training tomorrow, I see no reason for either of your parents to hear of this." He cocked his head. "If you are not tired, walk with me."

"Of course, my lord."

"There are some things you should know," Arbellason said as they walked, "now that you are growing up. How to slip out of your room at night without being caught, for instance. Stealth is a vital skill for a warrior and there is no better way to practise it than avoiding an overly protective father." He gestured in the direction of the courtyard. "To begin with, remember to be silent when you are leaving and returning." He smiled to take the sting out of the rebuke. "I remember how difficult it can be to be silent when you are young and excited by the results of a night time archery contest. Though, in all honestly, when your father and Thorontur and I had them, Thorontur invariably won."

Legolas' eyes sparkled with mirth.

"So make certain," Arbellason went on cheerfully, "that you fulfil the promise Master Bainion claims you have. I, for one, am eager to see Thorontur finally outdone."

Legolas laughed outright. "I will do my best, my lord."

"Good. And one last thing."

Arbellason stopped Legolas with a hand to his elbow, turning the young Elf fully to face him. As he did so, he realized with a start that Legolas was very nearly as tall as he was, now. It felt like only yesterday that Thranduil, grinning like an idiot, had been walking the halls with his newborn Elfling, showing him off to all who passed.

"This," Arbellason said, brushing back a strand of Legolas' golden hair, "is a beacon in the moonlight. Always remember, Legolas: if you do not want to be seen, cover your head."

He saw Legolas' eyes flicker to Arbellason's warrior braids, such a pale silver they were almost white, and laughed again, nodding.

"Yes," he said. "That was a lesson I learnt the hard way – and so did Thranduil along with me. Thranduil never learnt to widen those blue eyes quite as innocently and effectively as you appear to manage, so he suffered far more punishments for his misdeeds."

* * *

_This, too, was originally written for Loyalties. I think I wanted to give Arbellason more of a role there, but a lot of his scenes ended up cut. Poor Arbellason! I meant to build up his relationship with Legolas, in the early days, far more, but it didn't really happen._

"Wine?" the Elven-king asked, but he did not wait for an answer before he began to pour.

Legolas smiled his thanks as he took the goblet from his father. He sipped, and could not hold back an appreciative smile.

"The 1973 Dorwinion. What are we celebrating?"

"A peaceful watch."

"And the warriors who have given it to us," Arbellason added, raising his own goblet to Legolas.

Legolas laughed and returned the toast, though he could not summon up more than a little enthusiasm for the wine. It had been a quiet watch; all the same, he was exhausted. He had looked in on his father, intending only to bid him good night, but he had found himself being drawn into a discussion of military tactics with the Commander of the Army. It was now nearly midnight.

As though sensing Legolas' thoughts, Thranduil laughed ruefully. "The Healers will be horrified if they learn that I am keeping you from getting rest."

"Thorontur _will_ be horrified," Arbellason said, with a wry smile. "So if he should hear of this, Legolas, and ask who was responsible for making you discuss the placement of light cavalry in the middle of the night –"

"Blame Arbellason," interrupted the Elven-king.

* * *

_This was originally written for Betrayal – I was going to have Saeldur bring Legolas back himself, in defiance of Legolas' orders. But – while I don't think Legolas would really have been angry with him – I realized that if Saeldur had been there, he would have realized that something was wrong far sooner. I needed him (and Thranduil) out of the way for a few days – and so Rochendilwen and Thorontur took over this part._

It was called the warriors' courtyard, although in fact it really only was the back courtyard of the stronghold. It was conveniently located, backing up onto the entrance that was closest to the Healing Wards, with the stables to the right and the practice ranges and sparring-grounds close by on the left with the warriors' quarters just beyond them. The ground was unpaved, meaning that horses could gallop in and out without their hooves clattering against cobblestones and rousing half the stronghold.

Thranduil stood in it, barely acknowledging the greetings of the Elves hurrying up and down. He had been standing in the same spot for what seemed like hours, listening.

When he finally heard the hurrying hoofbeats he had been waiting for, it only increased his anxiety. For a couple of minutes he could not see the source of the sound, and his fingernails dug into his palms as he waited in growing fear. Then the horse was in sight, Saeldur jumping it over fences and walls and even Elves instead of allowing even a second's delay. Fortunately the Elves in this part of the stronghold were all warriors themselves; they knew what the haste meant and they held themselves perfectly still, ducking slightly when the hooves sailed over their heads but showing no other outward reaction.

Thranduil ran forward, his eyes on the bright head resting on Saeldur's shoulder. There had been no sign of life from Legolas, not even a grimace at the jolts of the horse's hooves thudding onto the ground.

"Is he...?"

"He is alive," Saeldur said hoarsely, drawing rein. Thranduil saw that both Elves' tunics and cloaks were bloodstained; an enquiring glance at Saeldur drew a shake of the dark head. "Legolas. All Legolas. He needs healers."

"Are you –?"

"Fine."

Thranduil nodded and held up his hands. Legolas did not stir as he was lowered from his friend's arms to his father's. The Elven-king held him as gently as he could, forcing himself to calmness because somebody had to be calm and Saeldur seemed to have reached the end of his tether.

"You should see the healers as well, penneth," he told the young archer gently. "You do not seem yourself."

Saeldur laughed, aiming for lightness but sounding unwontedly bitter. "I am fine, my King. It has just been a... trying... ride." At the raised eyebrow that greeted that statement, he flushed and went on, "Legolas and I are not precisely on speaking terms just now. He thinks I should have let him die instead of bringing him back."

Despite the gravity of the situation, despite the blood now staining his tunic, Thranduil could not help but bark a short laugh. "So long as that is all it is... I must say, I saw it coming. The two of you have not had a serious disagreement for years. Go and get some rest, and stop brooding about it."

"If anything happens... And the last thing I said –"

"I told you to get some rest." Thranduil's arms were full, preventing him from patting Saeldur's shoulder, but he shot the young Elf a look of sympathy and understanding. "You are not the first Elves to have a disagreement in the midst of a battle. You will certainly not be the last. It is a difficult situation, and nobody reacts to anything as they should."

"But I told him –"

"It does not matter. Go and get some rest." He hesitated, and then added, "You will not know, of course, but when Thorontur, Arbellason and I went to the Dagorlad, there were times when we did nothing but quarrel for days on end. We were frightened and tired and we were not being entirely sensible. Whatever you said, Saeldur, Legolas will know it meant nothing when he is feeling himself again. No doubt he said plenty of regrettable things himself. Now go. Your parents must be anxious. I do not want to see you in the healing wards until you have rested and eaten."

* * *

_This was written for a bit of fun with Éowyn before things got serious. I do plan to write some more stories of her and Faramir with the Elves in Ithilien, because I love it as a concept._

Éowyn could not hold back her smile as she dismounted. There was something about the Elven settlement in Ithilien that brought peace to her spirit as nothing else had ever done. The trees were putting forth new leaves. The forest was green and strong and alive with birdsong sweeter than any harp.

Time seemed to have stood still, the woods no longer young or old but as ageless as the Elves who walked among them.

She laughed when she felt cold steel at her back. The Elves might be ageless to her, but among their own kindred they were young, and playful, and sometimes had the most decidedly odd sense of humour.

"I have no need to be on my guard," she said. "I am here by your prince's leave."

The steel was withdrawn, accompanied by the pure silver sound of Elven mirth, and then Aeroniel was before her. "You are nearly two hours behind the rest of your party."

"They must have told you they left a day before I did. I had business to attend to."

"Lord Faramir is deeply distressed that you insisted on riding all this way alone," said Rochendilwen, appearing on Éowyn's other side.

"I cannot abide the men of court. Elboron is nearly a year old, but the way they treat me you would think I was still in confinement. One of them tried to tell me I should take a carriage. A daughter of Rohan take a carriage!" She glanced from Rochendilwen to Aeroniel. "I hope neither of you intends to tell me I should take a carriage."

"Not I," said Rochendilwen, with a shake of the head. "When Legolas was much younger than Elboron, no more than a few weeks old, I asked the Queen if she needed my help to climb a tree. Believe me, I learnt my lesson."

"She challenged Rochendilwen to Esgalorne," Aeroniel explained.

"With only two people? Is it possible?"

"It is. And Queen Lindariel was no warrior, but the trees so loved her that they led Rochendilwen a merry dance for a day and a half, while the Queen sat at her ease in the tallest of them teaching Legolas the names of the stars."

Éowyn laughed again. "I have something for you," she told Rochendilwen.

"For me?"

"An Elf arrived from Eryn Lasgalen just as I was leaving. He would not stay – he said he had urgent business elsewhere – but he gave me a letter for you, and a package for Legolas." Éowyn drew the letter from her cloak and handed it over.

* * *

_I didn't put the final scenes in court into the fic – I didn't even write them fully, because I figured out fairly early on that it wouldn't matter. Arahael's fate isn't really a matter of conjecture; and as for Saeldur… well, he never was too worried about what Thranduil thought. _

"Saeldur Belegurion."

The hush that descended was absolute. For once, nobody in the room, save Thranduil – and, perhaps, Legolas, at whose impassive face Saeldur dared to cast a quick glance – knew what was going to happen. That Arahael would be exiled had been all but certain. He had long made it his life's work to destroy the Elven-prince.

What his own fate would be, even Saeldur could not conjecture. Even if the King believed him, he had still risked Legolas' life for the sake of his own pride. It would be an offence against the realm if anyone else had done it, but Saeldur was – or had been – Legolas' friend, the most trusted of his captains –

His punishment might be far more lenient than Arahael's. Or far worse.

"Saeldur." Thranduil had the expression of one who was having to perform some distasteful duty. "The acts to which you have admitted constitute, at the very least, a grave error of judgement. At the worst, you are guilty of high treason."

Legolas was deliberately avoiding his eyes. Saeldur felt an icy hand clutch at his heart. If Legolas could not even stand to look at him…

"I will be honest," Thranduil went on. "If I were to follow only my own will, I would name you traitor. What you have done is unforgiveable." Saeldur felt a faint glimmer of hope – he hardly cared what his punishment was, but in such a matter only one Elf in all of Arda could have persuaded the Elven-king not to follow his own will. Thranduil's next words proved Saeldur right. "However, at Legolas' request, and in recognition of the service you have rendered the realm, you are acquitted of treason." There was a pause, and then he said, with a hard note in his voice, "I warn you, I will not be so lenient another time."

"Yes, my king," Saeldur mumbled, because he was expected to say _something_, but he kept his eyes on Legolas. There was more to be said, he knew.

* * *

_This scene was rewritten for the fic. It didn't make any sense at all to put Legolas in the Healing Wards again, and also it made it difficult to bring the last couple of chapters together, because I felt like if it had gone this far, Legolas probably wouldn't have held his ground on Saeldur not staying in Ithilien._

_This was the reason for Saeldur's dream in Afterwards – I wrote this scene from Saeldur's point of view as well (and in fact from Legolas' and Feredir's point of view, it took a lot of trials), before finally writing the version that made it to the fic. Éowyn's PoV was important here because I was also going to have Saeldur see Éowyn and Faramir on his way to Ithilien in the last chapter of Dusk._

Éowyn felt her breath catch. She could not have moved if her life had depended on it. It looked as though nobody would move; as though nobody _could _move save Arahael.

The exiled Elf seemed wild with anger, past all reason, as he waved the dagger in his hand. Saeldur stood alone; and, despite all he had done, Éowyn felt a throb of pity. She believed him when he said he had only been trying to help Legolas; however terrible his actions, his motives had been true. And he stood among those who, only weeks ago, had been his brothers and sisters in arms. Now they looked on as though watching a tableau, and made no move to help.

"You betrayed us all," Arahael snarled, "and _this _is my vengeance."

He drew his hand back to throw the blade he held.

Saeldur did not move. He would not touch a weapon – he had sworn not to until Legolas himself put one in his hands, and Éowyn knew he would keep that promise. He would not get out of the way, lest someone behind him be struck instead.

There was a silver flash and the blade flew.

Éowyn could not look away, could not close her eyes –

And there was movement, faster than any mortal could move – or even _think_ of reacting – and Saeldur was stumbling back –

Someone screamed. Perhaps it was Éowyn herself.

Saeldur was kneeling on the ground – _unhurt _– with his arms around Legolas, who was slumped against his shoulder, red staining the front of his tunic. Someone was moving to restrain Arahael. Feredir was pushing through the crowd. He dropped to his knees beside Saeldur and Legolas.

"Get his tunic off," Feredir ordered.

Before Saeldur could obey, Arahael broke free of his captors and ran forward.

"I could have planned no better revenge than this," he said, approaching Saeldur, Legolas and Feredir. "I thought killing you would be sweet, but this…" His eyes were wide. Febrile. Éowyn shuddered. "Seeing your face as Legolas dies in your arms and you are unable to save him –"

"Legolas will not die," Feredir said tersely. "Why is nobody restraining the lunatic?"

Arahael whipped out another knife. "If anybody moves, Legolas will die." His tone was matter-of-fact. "I am far closer to him than the rest of you are to me."

"You have lost your mind." Saeldur looked up at Arahael, although his arms stayed around Legolas. "Legolas did not harm your father. If you must blame someone, blame me."

"Oh, I do blame you," Arahael assured him. "But Legolas seemed to think his life for yours was a fair trade – and who am I to refuse the wishes of our Elven-prince?"

The knife came down.

Legolas never moved.

Legolas never had to. Inches from his chest, there was a spark and the clash of steel on steel.

Saeldur had snatched one of Legolas' knives from its sheath and was holding it up, while his other arm supported Legolas.

Arahael laughed. "I thought you swore on your honour to touch no weapon until Legolas gave you one."

Saeldur's grip never wavered.

"If you think my honour matters more to me than Legolas' life, you know nothing." With a sharp twist, he sent Arahael's knife clattering to the forest floor. "It is over, Arahael."

* * *

_This bit was supposed to go in the last chapter, but, really, it didn't belong there. I was going to have Saeldur see Faramir and Éowyn on his way to Ithilien, so there would have been more of them (especially Éowyn) at the end._

Éowyn was brought up short by the sound of voices. They were too soft to be recognized, barely discernible above the wind in the trees.

Then she saw them through a gap in the leaves, Saeldur and Legolas in the little clearing by the river. Legolas was seated on a fallen log, Saeldur on his knees before him, his gaze on the ground as he spoke. Legolas was looking at something above Saeldur's head, or perhaps not looking at anything at all; Éowyn would almost have believed they were unaware of each other's presence if it had not been for the tightly clasped hands resting on Legolas' knee.

Éowyn stepped back. She was not meant to bear witness to this confession.

* * *

_This would have gone after the last chapter of Dusk – or perhaps as an independent ficlet, but, really, it didn't seem to fit in either place. So here it is. I realize I never did spend too much time on either Rochendilwen or Legolas reacting to Bregolien's death – Rochendilwen because I truly do believe that he had been dead to her for a very long time, and she saw it as a chance for him to redeem himself after a time of reflection and repentance in the Halls of Mandos. _

_I also don't think Legolas would have been too angsty about it, because by this time he has the maturity to realize that he had no choice and did what he had to do. Still, he couldn't have been entirely unaffected._

Legolas stared at the canopy of leaves overhead.

He had not lied when he had told Saeldur that storms would no longer bother him. It appeared that rest was unlikely to be his friend, either.

He got out of bed. There were going to be no dreams tonight in any case.

He opened his bedroom door soundlessly, padding into the sitting room that took up most of the _talan_. There was no light shining under Saeldur's bedroom door. That was good; at least one of them was getting some sleep.

Legolas debated going outside, but decided against it. The last thing he wanted was to have whichever archers were on guard tonight deciding his sleeplessness was caused by the lingering ill effects of his ordeal. He knew they meant well, but he could not face their solicitousness.

He sat by the window, letting his gaze flit around the view it provided of the settlement. He could see a couple of moonlit figures standing by the clearing where they lit their bonfires when they had feasts. Duvain and Ornil. There were _telain _all around, candlelight glowing from the windows of some. Somewhere on the ground, someone was singing.

Ithilien was at peace.

Legolas ought to be at peace. Bregolien was dead. The nightmares that had plagued him since his mother's murder were at an end. There was no more need to worry about assassins and knives in the dark.

Legolas sighed.

Nothing could change the fact that he was now responsible for the deaths of the brothers of two of his closest friends. He would have avoided both if he could have done. Neither Saeldur nor Rochendilwen bore the slightest grudge against him.

But there was Elven blood on his hands.

He was startled from his thoughts when he felt a cloak drop around his shoulders.

He looked up at Saeldur, whose grey eyes were very serious as they met his.

"Do you trust me?"

"You know I do," said Legolas.

"Then, if you are not going to sleep, we are going to talk."

"There is nothing to talk about." Legolas returned his gaze to the scene outside.

"I will be the judge of that." Saeldur glanced out the window. "We cannot go out, somebody will see us. This will have to do."

He went to the side table, retrieved the flask of wine that was kept there, picked up a couple of cups, and returned. He settled down on the floor, his back to the wall, and looked up at Legolas expectantly.

Legolas knew Saeldur would not be content unless he played along, so he sat on the floor next to him, stretching out his legs. Saeldur put a cup of wine in his hands.

Legolas was suddenly, irresistibly reminded of the night several months after his mother's death when Elladan and Elrohir had returned to Imladris, Legolas had been attempting to return to his normal duties but had barely been able to shoot to the standards of a first-year novice, and Saeldur had cornered him in his bedroom, dragged him out to the balcony, and refused to leave until Legolas unburdened his heart.

They had spent hours on that balcony, huddled under a cloak to keep the guards from noticing the telltale glint of starlight on Legolas' hair.

Legolas bit his lip.

"You will not talk to your father," said Saeldur, repeating his own past words, "because you do not want to worry or grieve him. You will not talk to Eredhion and Voronwë because they will feel guilty for having failed to keep you from harm. You will not talk to Rochendilwen because Bregolien was her brother. You will not talk to Aeroniel because, even after all this time, you fear she will blame you. You might talk to the sons of Elrond, but they are not here."

Legolas chose not to respond.

"I _am _here," Saeldur went on. "Bregolien was not my brother. Nothing you say can make me feel guiltier than I already do. You know I will not blame you, no matter what you had to do." Saeldur's voice was steady and even, soothing something in Legolas' soul. "Talk to me, Elfling."

"I am not an Elfling," Legolas responded automatically.

"Talk to me."

"Saeldur, please. Do not ask this of me."

Saeldur's arm slid around his shoulders. Despite himself, Legolas relaxed into the comforting touch.

"You do not truly think I will blame you?"

"How could you not? I blame myself."

"That is because you are a fool. Legolas… if you will not trust yourself, at least trust me. I will not blame you, not for anything. I swear it. _Tell me._" Saeldur squeezed Legolas' shoulders lightly. "I am sworn to share the burden of your duty, Legolas. If you will not tell me, you do not let me keep my oaths."

* * *

_Most of these – well, there's a reason they didn't make it into any of the published stories, and, as I said, they're unedited. But I hope, just for a while, they gave everyone something else to think about._

_Stay safe!_


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